


Eternal Hilarity

by Luxis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: ...Kinda, BAMF Harry, Canon Rewrite, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff, Harry is a Little Shit, Humor, M/M, Master of Death Harry Potter, Possessive Tom Riddle, Rebirth, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2019-07-17 21:57:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 48,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16104623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luxis/pseuds/Luxis
Summary: Harry Potter, Master of Death, was reborn fifty-one times with his soulmate Tom Riddle in various eras and universes. They finally returned to their first life after a millennia of absurdity and amusement, but this time, Harry is ready to make the most of it.Chaos shall reign supreme.





	1. Soulmates in the Afterlife

**Author's Note:**

> Goddess Jo owns the Harry Potter universe, and this is a mere work of fanfiction. Additionally, this fic's concept (MoD Harry, Rebirth, crack) is similar to tetsurashian's Full Circle, and the idea for writing about Harry and Tom's past reincarnations also came from them. I've also talked with them about how they inspired me to start writing. So, although the actual plot of Eternal Hilarity is definitely different, credit goes to tetsurashian for being such a fantastic writer and being the real OG! Side note: I had no beta on any of my works up until chapter 17 of this fic, so any mistakes were completely mine. But! Maquira, an amazingly talented Tomarrymort and Sirry author, is now my official beta (and I'm hers in this mutual betaship bc I love her to death) so you can credit her for the uptick in writing quality!!!  
>    
> [Portuguese translation available here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17854730/chapters/42133712)

Purgatory was unusually busy today. The in-between point of life and death was a pearly-white, hazy King's Cross. It had looked like a dreary stretch of barren wasteland a long time ago, but that was before there was a new Master of Death. This Master of Death was none other than Harry Potter, who was currently very bored.

Harry surveyed the aimless sea of souls from his throne. Ever since he'd died in his previous, fifty-first life, he'd been looking for this one person for years now, but so far to no avail. More specifically, Harry was waiting for his soulmate to die so that they could be reborn again together. He’d waited for what, ten years? Twenty? Harry wasn’t certain, but he was most definitely peeved.

The stupidly attractive wanker of a soulmate probably stayed alive just to spite Harry.

There was nothing better to do, so Harry picked up the latest edition of the Underworld Gazette and began reading—tormenting souls in limbo got boring after a while, after all.

According to the article, the modern equivalent of Ghenghis Khan had killed an entire continent's worth of people in a flash massacre. Incidentally, there had also been a devastating detonation of a nuclear bomb on the other side of the globe too. That would definitely explain why Purgatory was so clogged at the moment.

Upon reading about these catastrophes, Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Every time he got reborn in one of the more futuristic time periods, there would be some sort of disaster that essentially wiped out everyone.

For that reason, he made sure to always be reborn into a life in the twenty-first century or earlier. He vividly recalled the time in the twenty-second century when his soulmate and he had been incinerated by an accidental mass explosion that eventually sent the whole Earth up in flames. Harry hadn't known that oceans could burn too, and felt a twinge of pity for the flambéed sharks.

Yawning, Harry stretched his shoulders and was about to return to the newspaper when a certain familiar, handsome individual among the crowd of souls caught his attention. He blinked in momentary surprise before regaining his evilly gleeful grin.

His soulmate was back.

"Darling!" He bounded over, pulling Tom into a tight hug. A few souls around them directed scandalized looks at them before hastily glancing away when they recognized Harry. "You're looking as gorgeous as always."

"I’m flattered,” Tom said dryly. “It’s almost as though our souls take on our twenty-year-old appearance by default.”

Harry stuck his tongue out at Tom for that. "Doesn't matter. You're still a work of art. Why didn't you come back earlier?"

"Maybe I didn’t want to die, Harry,” Tom rolled his eyes.

"Oh, please. This time you got to outlive me by ten whole years," Harry complained. "I have a right to be unhappy."

"Ten years is nothing to us. And, out of the four times we haven't died together, you've outlived me for half of those. It's only fair for me to live longer this time," Tom pointed out, extricating himself from Harry's clutches.

"Well, I suppose we can't keep dying via lover's suicide each time," Harry conceded. "But it's so _tiring_ to watch hordes of souls milling about with no one to talk to. They all avoid me!"

"It might have to do with your title as 'Master of Death'." Tom suggested dryly.

"Come on, I'm not that scary." Harry crossed his arms.

"No, you're not," Agreed Tom. "Death, on the other hand, maybe."

"He's not scary. He's just misunderstood," Harry frowned.

Tom arched a single eyebrow delicately. "Misunderstood? Death was cackling madly when three-quarters of America's population was wiped out by the revived Black Death."

Harry waved him away. "That's natural for him. He’s quite the sweetheart when he feels like it, you know."

"Maybe," Tom admitted grudgingly. "Once you get over his spectral form, Dementor's robes, and terrifying twenty-foot-tall scythe."

"Hey! Don't compare him to a Dementor. Besides, the whole getup is for the theatrics. You two are the most dramatic people I know." Harry shot Tom a cheeky grin.

"I'm not dramatic." Denied Tom.

Harry snorted. "Please, darling. It may have been forever ago, but remember our first life? You would wax poetic with your monologues every time you had a chance to kill me. Honestly, I was only the Boy-Who-Lived because you were the Too-Dramatic-Dark-Lord."

Tom winced. "Let's not talk about life number one."

"That was one of my favorite lives with you!" Harry exclaimed. "You were so ugly for a good majority of it. I would have been considered the cuter one in our relationship!"

"We weren't even a couple during that life." Tom said flatly.

Harry roared with laughter at the prospect. "Oh my gods, that would have been _hilarious_. Imagine the Chosen One and big, bad, Lord Voldemort together. Never mind the half century's worth of an age gap! Merlin, I would have killed to see the reactions. Rita Skeeter would have a field day, Ron would turn green, Hermione would have a coronary, Dumbledore would go into cardiac arrest, and Bellatrix would probably crucio the lights out of me," Harry wheezed, wiping away the tears of laughter.

"We can't have that happening. Only I get to crucio you," Tom said sardonically.

"You do make me lose my mind, but in a different way." Harry batted his eyelashes suggestively.

Tom glared at him. "How mature."

"Drop the snobbish, poncy act. You're not a Malfoy anymore." Harry scolded.

"That was our twentieth life. Or was it the twenty-first?" Tom mused.

"Definitely twentieth. After that party you threw as the Malfoy heir, there's no way that I would forget which life that was." Harry sniggered, recalling the infamous life #20.

"…I might have made some mistakes."

"I didn't realize that 'mistakes' only involved drunken heists, chandelier levitation, tittering animagi, lots of kissing, buying a private island, and an irate Malfoy patriarch."

Tom groaned into his hands.

"Don't forget the flammable blimp and the unicorn-screwt hybrid that Carrow invited. Definitely a bigger bash than your cousin's wedding. I don't think the Malfoy ballroom ever recovered from that night.”

”Harry—”

Tom began with a pained expression.

“If I ever get reborn into Draco’s time again, I’d ask him about the Party of 1882,” Harry barreled on. “I’ll bet my left arsecheek that the private Malfoy island he bragged about was the very same you bought."

"I rather like your left cheek—"

"To your credit, you gave me the snog of my life. Mmmm, I can almost taste the champagne on your lips again," Harry smiled contemplatively. "Though that was a rather crude way for you to come out."

"The looks of shock and wolf-whistling made it worth it," Tom said sarcastically.

"It was definitely worth it. You never cease to surprise, darling. And speaking of which…" Hadrian tugged at Tom's hand, phasing into his private quarters with a teleportation-like sensation.

"I told you to stop phasing without giving me a heads-up," Tom said sternly.

"Well, pardon me for being too eager," Harry harrumphed. "Do you know how much I've missed you?"

"More than I missed you?" Tom flashed Harry one of his suave smiles.

"Obviously, or you would have rejoined me earlier." Harry pouted.

"Maybe I wanted to wait longer so _this_ would feel sweeter." Tom smirked, taking Harry's chin in his hand and leaning in for a kiss.

Harry's eyes fluttered in surprise before he reciprocated, pressing against Tom's mouth. Reaching up to embrace the taller man, Harry brushed over the nape of his neck. Tom shuddered in response, abruptly taking Harry by the collar, their chests touching. Certain that Tom could feel his heart beating rapidly, Harry let out a little gasp when Tom pressed his long fingers against the small of Harry's back.

Taking advantage of Harry's parted lips, Tom bit down on Harry's soft, plush skin, running his tongue over Harry's delightfully luscious mouth. Harry was unable to suppress the low moan that escaped his throat, and he could practically sense Tom's smug smile at the sound. In retaliation, Harry snaked his hands up Tom's shirt, feeling the toned torso. Tom growled appreciatively, deepening the kiss with a ferocious passion. Harry almost whined when Tom pulled away after a long while of more kissing.

"There. Been waiting to do that for a decade," Tom announced, triumphantly observing Harry's dazed expression.

"You're always so amazing at this," Harry managed after a few beats, still panting slightly. Tom's smirk widened as he continued to thread his hands through Harry's thick locks, reveling in his disheveled state.

"Your upper buttons are undone," Tom observed. Harry glared at him and quickly righted his appearance with a flick of his hand.

"That was your doing, you prat."

"Can't say you didn't enjoy it though," Drawled Tom, pressing his lips against Harry's for a brief, gentle kiss.

"You treat me so well," Harry agreed. "Honestly, you're too handsome for your own good."

"And you're beautiful," Tom murmured, leaning in to kiss Harry again.

Harry laughed and dodged his advances, pulling them both onto the bed. "Lie down," He commanded. "We haven't cuddled in ages."

"Would you like to do more than cuddle?" Came Tom's silken baritone as he wrapped his arms around Harry from the back.

"Nuh-uh. You're not getting back into my pants until I decide you're forgiven for spending ten years without me." Harry freed himself from Tom's embrace and turned to face him, sticking his tongue out.

"That's nothing in comparison to the amount of years we've lived together," Tom frowned.

"Too bad. You'll have to wait until I've forgiven you." Harry grinned impishly.

"So, a day maybe?" Tom summed up.

"You wish." Harry sniffed.

Tom gave one of his genuinely mirthful laughs and pulled Harry closer. Harry gazed back into his dark hazel eyes with his own vivid green, reaching out to caress Tom's soft, flawlessly fair cheek. Tom responded by nuzzling into Harry's neck, sighing with contentment. "I missed you too, beloved." He whispered by Harry's ear.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

When Harry awoke, Tom was still asleep. They were still embracing each other, limbs tangled, hair mussed, and covers strewn messily. He smiled gently, tracing the angles of Tom's perfect features as he savored this moment of blissful peace. Tom stirred in his sleep, drawing Harry to his chest and winding his hands deeper in Harry's clothes.

"Possessive bastard." Harry commented fondly.

Tom lips quirked, evidently awake by now. "I'm _your_ possessive bastard." He murmured, stroking Harry's back.

"That you are. Now that we're both awake, how about we get up?" Harry suggested, making to rise from the bed. Tom refused to let go, however, and Harry found himself back on the bed with a grunt.

"No. Stay," Tom ordered.

"You know, for someone who's so clingy, you did take your sweet time in coming back." Harry nudged him.

"This objection again?" Tom gave him an apologetic look. "Harry, I missed you with every fiber of my being during that time."

Harry grinned. "I know you did. I’m not _that_ upset. It’s just nice seeing you squirm a little with guilt."

"Who said I was squirming?" Tom protested.

"I did," Harry poked Tom in the side.

They sank into a comfortable silence, each enjoying the other's company. Harry’s brow had been furrowed in thought for some while before he opened his mouth hesitantly.

"Tom… I was thinking about something," He said slowly.

"Is this the breakup talk?" Tom said wryly.

"Of course not, you twat." Harry poked him again. "I was just thinking back to our previous lives. We've had it good, right?"

Tom snorted. "We've had it better than good."

"Exactly. But, I'm beginning to get a bit bored with the constant rebirth, becoming new people, living foreign lives, dying, and restarting. I was wondering… I was wondering if it was possible to be reborn into a previous life," Harry finished in a rush.

"Oh?" Tom intoned, interested.

"Say… what do you think about reliving the glory days?" Harry began.

“Glory days?” Tom echoed, looking confused for a moment before his eyes widened in growing comprehension and horror. "No. Never. Definitely not. I know what you're going to say, and I won't like it."

"But Tom! Being reborn into our first life would be amazing," Harry insisted.

“Absolutely not. I’d rather die than have to deal with idiot Death eaters again.”

“…we’re literally immortal.”

“You know what I mean.”

Harry pulled the saddest puppy eyed-look he knew. “ _Tom_ , it’d mean so much to me—”

“That face won’t work on me,” Tom said haughtily.

“That’s a lie,” Harry announced. “Do I need to remind you about the time when you sucked my c—”

Tom hastily slapped a hand over Harry’s mouth. “All right, all right, I get it. Keep it PG, will you?” He hissed.

Harry blinked innocently up at him. “I might if you decide to get reborn with me as our first-life-selves.”

 

Two days’ worth of nagging (Harry), wheedling (Harry), and increasingly tired objections (Tom), they came to an agreement.

Tom, being a melodramatic person, insisted that Harry join him as a co-Dark-Lord of sorts. Harry found the idea of the Chosen One with a Dark Lord alter ego to be quite amusing, so he didn’t object. And, since Horcruxes were a pain in the arse, metaphorically speaking, Tom resolved to avoid making Horcruxes this time around. He would instead live a double life as a Dark Lord and a Politician. Classic Tom.

"All right, we need to get moving. You know how cranky Death gets when we spend too long in purgatory."

Tom shuddered. “Right. So, do we need to ask him about our plan?”

"Probably. He’ll turn us into gremlins if we do things without his input. Hey, Death!" Harry shouted into his mind link with the immortal being.

Death popped by their side. He was in his humanized form, his skeletal figure robed in tattered scraps of black fabric, scythe sheathed and roughly at their height. "What’s wrong with you now?" He asked exasperatedly. One too many encounters with a crazed Harry had taught him to be always wary.

Harry smiled at the familiar immortal being. "Hi there! We wanted to ask you if it's possible to be reborn in a previous life."

Death eyed them with interest. "It's possible, yes," He said slowly. “Why?”

”We want to return to our first life," Harry answered promptly.

"Really? You never fail to intrigue, master," Death smiled, or smiled as much as his skeletal face could.

"Just a question." Tom interjected. "In our first life, I was born fifty four years before Harry. Will I have to relive everything up until our first meeting this time too?"

Death looked at Tom sympathetically. "I'm afraid so."

Tom sighed, but didn't look surprised. "So Harry and I will be separated for fifty-some years."

"Correct."

"That sucks." Harry said petulantly. He had a sudden thought. "Death, would we be able to take on a form other than our biological age when we're reborn?" Harry ventured. He really didn't want to have to undergo puberty all over again. He'd done it too many times and dreaded the thought of having to experience it once more.

"Of course. You can adopt your Eternal Form anytime," Death said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Eternal Form? What in the name of Merlin is that?" Harry said, mystified.

"It a physical manifestation of your soul. In other words, you can age your appearance at whim,” Death explained. "Wait, did you not know this?"

Harry was appalled. "I could have avoided the cycles of puberty and you _didn't see fit to tell me_?"

"I thought I did tell you, though," Death shrugged.

"Do we have any other cool abilities that you never informed us about?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"I mean, you can also shapeshift. But everyone knows _that_ , surely."

Harry stared. "…We can shapeshift?"

"Not drastically, but enough to change basic features," Death clarified.

"How did we never know this?" Harry exclaimed.

"There isn't exactly a manual on being the Master of Death," Tom pointed out dryly.

"But why didn't you let us know?" Harry threw his hands up in the air.

"I suppose I was busy when you first found out about your position as Master of Death, and it must have slipped my mind." Death answered airily.

"You had thousands of years to remember that you'd left out some crucial information," Pouted Harry.

"And you had thousands of years to ask," Death retorted.

"That's hardly fair." Harry glared at Death.

"I'm Death. I'm not fair," Death laughed. "Anyways, now you know. Can I leave?"

"Fine." Harry scowled.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

By the end of what was considered a day in Purgatory, they'd created a basic outline of what they would do once reborn. Tom would not undergo the orphanage again. Instead, he would allow himself to be dropped off there, wait for an official documentation of his birth, and then promptly leave the hellhole. A week before the Hogwarts letters were to come, he would return to the orphanage, implant eleven years' worth of memories of Tom into the orphanage residents' minds. Tom knew that there were flaws to the plan, but he didn’t really care.

The, during his Hogwarts years, Tom would continue to maneuver the Slytherin political field, form connections, and do all the "endearingly evil things", as Harry put it.

"Won't you be bothered by my not-quite-moral actions?" Tom asked when Harry brought this up.

"Oh please, Tom. You’re my favorite evil mastermind. Who knows—I might even join you on some of your Bastard Man pursuits."

Tom gave Harry an appraising, amused look. "Fine. Just promise me that you’ll at least try to maintain your Golden Boy persona for some while. We can’t have them finding out about your… _darker_ inclinations too early on." 

"I’ll do it around other people, I guess,” Harry sighed. “But around Dumbledore? No, I’ll go all-out Tom Riddle on him."

"Right, but for how long?" Tom asked skeptically.

"For as long as I feel like it," Harry replied airily. "He'll regret leaving me to those muggles, and for thinking that any child deserves to be kept in an abusive household in the name of the Greater Good."

"I thought you said he put you there because of the blood wards."

Harry made a game show buzzer noise. “Wrong! Those blood wards were shoddier than Dumbledore’s moral compass. And honestly, I think I've been more hurt by the Dursleys than any of your incompetent lackies."

"Ah… that. I'll have to train my followers; they were fairly useless the first time we did this life," Ruminated Tom.

"To be fair, _you_ weren't able to kill me either.”

"Well, your luck simply happened to be amazing," Tom commented drolly.

"If that had been true, we wouldn't have to be kept separate for fifty four more years," Harry crossed his arms irritably, referring to the gap between his and Tom's birth years.

"We'll make up for it once we reunite, won't we?" Tom reminded Harry sternly.

Harry buried himself into Tom's chest. "Definitely."

After staying like this for a few minutes, Tom stood up with a sigh. "I have to go now, Harry."

"At least give me a goodbye kiss then." Harry said with a somewhat petulant smile. They both knew that fifty years were only a few minutes in comparison to their several lives together, but that didn't mean Harry wouldn't miss Tom anyways.

Tom cupped his hand over Harry's cheek and leaned down to give a gentle, loving kiss. When he pulled away, he paused to brush aside a stray lock and gave one last. Then, with a flick of his hand, he disappeared and Harry knew that somewhere in their first life, Tom Marvolo Riddle was born again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi!
> 
> This is the first fanfic that I've posted. I've got lots more Tomarry and Drarry ones written, though, and I'll add those when this fic's main plot gets going. If you'd like, you can subscribe to my user profile so you'll be notified when I do.
> 
> Feel free to poke around my tumblr: **[@tired-luxis](https://tired-luxis.tumblr.com/)**
> 
> -Luxis


	2. Reborn into Their First Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timestamp 1/20: I've cut out a few parts of this chapter to uphold a more consistent writing style. Additionally, I didn't like a few parts (i.e. the underdeveloped smut, overtly emphasized exposition in the Gringotts scene, unnecessary dawdling with Lily/James)

Baby Harry was taking determined, tottering steps in the living room. Giggling happily, he reached his arms out for a laughing James, who was kneeling a few feet away from Harry. Lily laughed and took a photo of the two, the flash of the camera startling Harry and causing him to land on the ground with a soft thump. Harry pouted, a little surprised and irritated with his inability to walk as fast as he wanted.

"It's all right, Prongslet. At least you're amazing with your toy broom; if you don't like walking, you can always fly everywhere." James said cheerfully, picking Harry up.

"James, don't give him any ideas." Lily scolded.

"He's a mini Marauder, Lils. He'll be wreaking havoc when he's older, with or without my help." James grinned, poking Harry's chubby cheeks. "Besides, it's not as though he'll understand or remember this later. He's only one year old."

Lily frowned admonishingly. "You're going to be such a bad influence on him. And I wouldn't be so sure that Harry's as uncomprehending as you think. Sometimes, I get the feeling that he's completely capable of understanding us." She said thoughtfully.

Harry watched this exchange with a smile. James and Lily were an adorable, loving couple and he felt a twinge of sadness knowing that they'd die soon. He didn't know how soon, since the calendar was kept in James's off-limits study room, but it couldn't be in too long. It was the fall of his first birthday already. To distract himself from this thought, he replayed the conversation he'd just heard.

Really, Lily was quite observant because so far in all of Harry's lives, few of his parents had suspected that he was not your normal toddler. Of course, when he started talking and they heard his fluent English, it was a different matter and they quickly discovered that he was more than he seemed to be.

He couldn't allow himself to be too attached to Lily and James, though. Tonight was the night that they'd perish, just as Fate ordained, and it was no use arguing with that ornery immortal entity. So, when Voldemort did arrive and accordingly kill Harry's parents, he was only somewhat saddened. The Potters' souls were destined to meet their end this way, and besides, they could at least enjoy the afterlife now. He had talked to their souls before this life, and they had always reassured him that they were perfectly approving of his decisions.

There were more pressing matters at hand too. He needed to finish creating the fake Horcrux that he and Death had talked about beforehand.

"Death!" Harry called out.

"Hello Master." Death said promptly as he materialized next to them.

"Remember what we talked about? Time for you to recreate something similar to a Horcrux in me without actually splitting Tom's soul." Harry said to Death, pointed to his own forehead.

"What do you mean by 'something similar'?" Tom frowned. "Which characteristics?"

"All the characteristics that a normal Horcrux would have, excluding the pain when we touched and the fact that I had a piece of your actual soul. Basically, it'll feel as Dark as a Horcrux to magically sensitive people. Also, we can still enter each other's minds, see visions, possess each other, blah blah blah." Harry waved his hand.

Death nodded in confirmation, and he pressed a skeletal finger at Harry's forehead without warning. In a blinding flash, Harry felt a searing pain stab through his forehead and gingerly raised his hand to feel the newly created lightning-shaped scar.

"Whew. Do I still have my mother's protection at least?" Harry winced, still prodding at his sore skin.

Death touched Harry's scar with a single, skeletal finger. "Done."

"All right, Harry. I should probably leave now." Tom said, already raising his wand.

"But what about the Dark Mark? Won't your Death Eaters and Snape be able to tell that you're not gone?" Harry questioned.

Death grasped Tom's left forearm and pressed into the mark. "There. It'll remain faded. You can still call your precious little 'Death Eaters' whenever you want, but it won't return in full force until you want it to. I'll leave you to your own devices to figure out how to swear the traitor Death Eaters into silence. Also, I've changed the timeline so that Dumbledore himself finds you at this house. Speaking of which, he'll be here in minutes." Death popped away after that.

"Got it." Voldemort nodded before apparating out of the home.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore was filled with trepidation and anticipation. He had been waiting for either the Longbottoms or the Potters to be attacked, and finally, his plans came to being. The alarm had just been sounded for the Potters' house, and he rushed over immediately. This moment would either confirm or negate his suspicions regarding the prophecy, and his heart leapt at the thought of Lord Voldemort no longer terrorizing the war-torn magical society of Britain.

He strode into the house and felt something crumple inside him when he saw James Potter, one of his favorite former students and more recently a close friend, lying dead on the ground. He was spread-eagled, eyes glassy and unseeing, features contorted and forever frozen in fear. Shaking his head mournfully, he made his way up the stairs to the nursery room. Lily Potter was also dead, a look of shock on her tear-stricken face. He prepared himself as he walked towards the crib. If the prophecy was true, the boy would be alive, and his parents' death would not have been in vain.

Heart beating quickly, he almost collapsed when he saw the boy's eyes closed. Sure, Voldemort wasn't in sight and was probably defeated for now, but what if the boy had died too? Had he been wrong?

But then, with a wave of relief that almost brought him to his knees again, he almost wept with happiness when he saw the tiny chest flutter as Harry took small breaths. He had been correct about the prophecy! This boy would be the one who held the power to defeat Voldemort! Euphoric, Dumbledore picked up the sleeping figure of the boy and frowned when he noticed the scar. With a sharp intake of breath, he realized that there was an undeniably dark trace of magic in the scar, interwoven with something that he recognized as being impossibly Light.

Glancing at Lily's corpse, arms still outstretched in a protective manner, he realized that the Light magic was something like a mother's sacrifice. The dark trace of magic, on the other hand, was where the killing curse had struck Harry. But something seemed off about the curse scar. Perhaps the unusually potent, malignant nature of the magic emanating from the scar was due to the hate behind the killing curse, but he was wary and sensed that it was likely something more.

Deciding to investigate the scar to the best of his abilities later, he returned his attention to the boy in his arms. He felt sorrow and guilt with what he was about to do. Lily's protection magic would only work if he was placed with family of Lily's blood. He closed his eyes and murmured " _forgive me_ " before apparating to the Dursleys. After a brief conversation with a sobbing Hagrid and sorrowful Minerva, he conjured a box and swaddled Harry with a blanket, placing a note on top of it all. Finally, he apparated away with a small pop, leaving the child alone in the cold and dark.

Dumbledore didn't even notice that the boy had been faking sleep ever since he'd entered the nursery.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

"Vernon!" A shriek tore through the silence of the early morning. The piggish, beady-eyed man hurried over, turning purple when he saw the thing at his doorstep.

"What tramp dared put that thing here?" He demanded, jabbing an accusatory finger at the seemingly asleep baby, who was neither asleep nor a truly a baby.

Petunia bent down and picked up the note on the blanket, turning pale. "V-Vernon, it's the freaks."

"The freaks?" He spluttered, grabbing the note in his pudgy fist. His eyes grew comically wide and his face ashen as he read the note.

"We'll have to take the freak in." Petunia whispered, thunderstruck.

"No we bloody well won't! They can't tell us what to do." Vernon bellowed indignantly.

"Vernon, the man who wrote this letter is powerful." Petunia swallowed. "And, our Dudders will be protected if we agree to the man's demands. We cannot say no. They will not let us."

Vernon growled and thrust the boy down forcefully into a boot cupboard under the stairs. "We'll make sure that our Dudders will not be tainted by the vermin."

"Of course, Vernon dear." Petunia agreed.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

"Boy! Make us breakfast" Vernon called out. Harry had finally been old enough to reach the stovetop if he stretched his hand far enough, and Vernon decided that now would be a good time to start having Harry do his proper share of work in the house. 

The four-year-old stood at the doorway, head tilted to the side as he regarded Vernon with those weird, unnaturally green eyes. "Well?" Vernon snarled, not expecting the boy to answer. He hadn't spoken this entire time, anyways.

"I think not, Vernon." The child said smoothly.

Vernon gasped and flailed backwards before regaining his temper and flushing angrily at his shock. The boy just spoke for the first time, and Vernon didn't like what the freak had said. "What did you say to me, boy?" He roared.

"Are you stupid? I said no." The boy repeated coolly.

"Wha— Petunia!" Vernon stuttered.

"Yes, dear?" She appeared by Vernon's side.

"The freak spoke, and for the first time! And he said he wouldn't do the chores. I'm going to teach him a lesson." Vernon blustered furiously, pulling out a belt and advancing upon the boy.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Uncle dearest." The boy shot him a terrifying smile, his voice still creepily calm.

"Stop taking like that!" Vernon shouted, bringing the belt down with a crack. Instantly, there was an explosion that sent Vernon crashing against the opposite end of the house.

"I warned you." The boy said in an eerily soft voice.

"F-freak! Stay away from us." Vernon cowed.

The boy's eyes turned icy hard. "Petunia, call over Dudley." He said without looking over his shoulder.

"But—"

The boy snarled and sent Dudley crashing through the ceiling where his bedroom was and landing on the ground with a heap. "M-mummy!" He howled, tottering towards Petunia, who was rushed over to him.

"Silence." The boy said chillingly, and Dudley found his vocal chords muted. His mouth worked furiously, but nothing came out.

"Excellent. Now that we've had a proper family reunion, I think it's time that we established some ground rules." Harry said coldly. "First, you cannot say the word 'freak' in this house. Second, you will treat me as you would if the Child Services were breathing down your neck at every second. In short, you will not force me to do the chores and you will not abuse me in any manner. You're adults; you can take care of the cooking and cleaning around here. Third, you will not ever speak word of me to anyone. Ever. Fourth, you will not monitor my goings or in any other way interfere. Leave me alone and I will leave you alone. Even if I disappear for days at a time, don't do anything about it. Oh, and don't even think of enrolling me in school. Any transgressions and you will be severely punished."

"But the government officials will know you exist and aren't at school." Petunia pointed out fearfully.

"I've already taken care of that." Harry said indifferently. "Oh, and because I know you'll probably go squealing to someone about me in hopes of getting me away from this home, I've made it so that you literally cannot speak of my existence, hint towards it, or communicate anything about me in any way. That includes trying to speak about what I've done to you or done in your presence, such as our current conversation. If you want to test it, try writing my name. You'll feel a choking sensation until you desist." Harry smiled with cruel amusement before striding upstairs.

"Mummy, will we have to listen to Ha— " Dudley gasped, feeling the choking sensation. "I mean, frea—" and the choking sensation intensified. Only when he'd stopped trying to mention Harry did the choking subside.

"Vernon," Petunia uttered, terrified. "He really meant it, then—" And she felt her throat constricting.

"That littl—" And Vernon was clutching at his throat as well. Refusing to believe it, he tried to write expletives about Harry on a piece of notebook paper, but was seized by spasms that almost made him black out when he tried to do so. It seemed that the freakish child had finally lost it.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

Harry Potter was very satisfied with the ways things had turned out. Smirking maliciously, he recalled the look of terror on the Dursleys' faces. He would never allow them to abuse him this time. Knowing that the Trace didn't apply to deliberate, wandless magic, he apparated without a worry into the back of a shop at Diagon Alley.

Harry hid himself in an alleyway and morphed into the Eternal Self that Death mentioned he was capable of taking the form of. He then proceeded to modify his appearance. His eyes faded into a more grey than green color, jawline softened, hair turned blonde and somewhat less untamable. In his eternal form, his body was free of any flaws, which meant even his poor eyesight was fixed. Harry felt that he was properly disguised, so he strode out into Diagon Alley and entered Gringotts.

"Good afternoon, Griphook." Harry bowed towards the goblin that he recognized from so many lives ago.

The goblin stiffened, curious that a wizard would take the time to know a goblin by name and show respect. "I do not know you." He said bluntly. "How do you know me?"

"I would be glad to explain if we could find somewhere private." Harry said, gesturing towards the other patrons at the bank.

"Follow me." The goblin said after a pause. Once they were situated inside his well-sealed office, he turned to the strange man. "Speak." He commanded.

Harry smiled. "Goblins do not take sides in wizarding squabbles, correct?"

"Obviously." Griphook sneered at the thought.

"I am also neutral in the unfinished war, and my… position would prove to be dangerous if others knew of my identity. So I trust that this will be a confidential matter between us, then?" Harry continued.

"Of course." Griphook smirked, intrigued.

"Thank you, Griphook. If you could bring out the inheritance test, you will find the name of my true identity." Harry offered.

Griphook complied, and Harry cut himself with the magical dagger, placing a drop of his blood in the bowl. They watched as a piece of parchment began filling with words. "Harry James Potter, Master of Death…" Griphook breathed, haughtiness forgotten.

"The one and only." Harry grinned.

"How did your disguise not register when you walked into Gringotts?" Griphook asked.

"Master of Death, remember?" Harry pointed towards the parchment. "Anyhow, I would like to reclaim ownership of my vaults. Albus Dumbledore has held the key to my accounts for some time as my magical guardian, but he has never come to see me, has not raised me, and didn't even tell me about the magical world. I dumped me with my magic-hating muggle relatives." Harry said with a derisive snort.

"That would render him no longer legally your magical guardian." Griphook said slowly, looking over the regulation about magical guardianships. "But you are not of age to claim your vaults."

"Check the age listed on the parchment." Harry said cheerfully.

Griphook's eyes almost popped out of their sockets. "4044 years of age." He gasped.

"I actually thought I was a couple decades younger than that, but it's hard to keep track." Harry said offhandedly. "Never mind that, I'll erase my true age and the 'Master of Death' title from that parchment and replace it with my biological age."

An hour later, he emerged from Gringotts as an emancipated, legal adult with full control of his bank accounts. Harry was never one for responsible purchases, so naturally, he had to go shopping immediately now that he had access to his gold once more. After buying a large pinata, a moving wombat sculpture, a ferret-patterned sweater, and a deck of screaming cards, he regretfully acknowledged that he ought to start his actual purchases soon. And so Harry purchased a full set of wizarding clothes, countless books, added potions ingredients, various magical instruments, and a trunk to store it all. He had only one thing left to get, which was a spare wand.

"Greetings, Mr…?" Ollivander looked at Harry inquisitively.

"Charles Smith. I'd like to purchase a wand since my previous one broke." Harry lied smoothly.

Ollivander blinked. "My apologies, I did not recognize you. What was your previous wand?"

Harry only shrugged. "It was my great-grandfathers. Beech and dragon heartstring, ten and a half inches. We got it from a private maker in France."

"I see. Did it work well?" Ollivander asked while the measuring took recorded different lengths.

"Somewhat. Never felt like it truly recognized me, though."

"Family wands do have that issue often." Ollivander agreed. "All right, you're all set. Try this one: cherry and dragon heartstring, twelve inches, firm and unyielding."

It didn't work.

"Perhaps ash and unicorn hair, nine and a half inches would work better, loyal and strong."

This one didn't respond either.

"Fir and unicorn hair, decisive and focused."

Nope.

And on and on it went, until there was a pile of boxes to Harry's left almost as tall as the pile he remembered from his first life.

"—maybe this one will work. Phoenix feather and holly, eleven inches."

Harry almost cried in relief at those blessed words. He grasped the wand and gave it a little swish, and the wood positively warmed at his touch. Finally, he had his beloved phoenix wand. 

After Harry removed Ollivander's memory of their encounter, he cheerily left the shop and made his way back to his original disapparition point. He'd taken care of the necessities, and he could now reunite with Tom at last.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

When Harry apparated into Riddle Manor, he instantly found himself pinned to the wall with a wand at his throat, his purchases blasted out of his hand and to the side. "Who are you?" Voldemort hissed. Harry noted with faint surprise that Tom was as handsome as before, though looking to be in his middle thirties.

"It's me, Harry. I just did a little bit of modification to my eternal form."

"Prove it." Tom commanded, not moving the wand.

Harry sighed and undid the modifications until he was in his natural eternal body. "There. Happy?"

Tom growled and lunged forward, pressing his lips to Harry's. Harry returned the kiss, sighing a little as he melted into Tom's deep, loving embrace, enjoying the calming feel of Tom's presence. Tom apparated them into the Riddle master bedroom, and they lay side by side and facing each other, Tom's leg over Harry's and entangled in the soft covers. Harry cupped Tom's cheek and pressed his forehead against Tom's.

"It's been almost six decades." Tom murmured. He gazed at Harry with hunger, holding on to him as if he would disappear.

"I wanted to come to you the moment I was dropped off at the Dursleys, but I needed to ensure that they wouldn't tell the old man that I periodically went missing." Harry explained.

"Did they hurt you this time around?" Tom asked, concerned.

"No, I got them to leave me alone." Harry smirked.

"That's my beloved." Tom smiled fondly.

Harry buried himself into Tom's shirt. "I've missed this so much." He admitted, voice slightly muffled by the fabric.

"As have I." Tom reassured Harry, pressing his thigh firmly atop Harry's. "Every waking moment I thought of you. When I struggled to find a place to sleep after leaving the orphanage, I thought of your warmth. When my followers tired me I thought of your wit. When Dumbledore saw me as a monster I thought of your love. You have kept my soul alive, Harry." Harry met Tom's eyes with a blazing, protective love, and he tightened his arms around Tom.

They basked in each other's presence in silence before Harry thought of something. "How come I was able to apparate directly inside your manor?"

"I keyed your blood inside the wards. But, when someone who looked like a stranger appeared, I was understandably wary. The only reason why I didn't shoot a killing curse at the intruder first thing was because there was a chance that it was you." Tom answered.

"I'm touched that you didn't try to kill me." Harry said dryly.

"You should be. That's already one big difference from now and the first time." Tom pointed out.

"Yes, it definitely is." Harry laughed softly. He propped himself up on an elbow and gazed at Tom with a mischievous grin. "However, I can think of several other things that I'll want to change."

Tom's eyebrows shot upwards in anticipation. "Oh? Do tell."

"When are you going to call your Death Eaters to you? Let them know that you've returned from your 'defeat'?" Harry inquired.

Tom was thoughtful for a moment. "Not certain. I've already established a false identity as Caius Tomae Valerius in Wizengamot before my official return as Lord Voldemort."

"What's the story behind the name?" Harry inquired.

"Valerius is an ancient pureblood family in Italy, and has existed since the Golden Era of Rome. Their line is rumored to have disappeared, but because the Valerius family has been secretive and hidden from the public for a good few centuries, most believe that there still is a Valerius alive. Interestingly, the Valerius family married Salazar Slytherin's second grandson, which is why I can legally claim descent from the Valerius family." Tom explained factually.

"Are there any other Valerius members known or alive today?" Harry wondered.

Tom smirked. "Actually, no. That means I'm Lord Valerius, which is most convenient for my prestige, especially considering that I have emerged from nowhere."

Harry gave Tom an impressed look. "That's pretty nice. Did Death have a hand in this?"

"Maybe." Tom said smugly. Upon Harry's incredulous look, he elaborated. "Fine, Death did establish this fake identity and altered my bloodline slightly to make my Valerius heritage more significant. He also took care of any concerns Gringotts would have, and I'll have you know that the vaults that I now own under the Valerius name are enough to rival even the Malfoys."

"So you're a rich kid now, huh? Just like your Malfoy heirship in our twentieth lives." Harry teased. The Valerius properties and gold, added onto the Riddle land and muggle money would indeed make Tom a 'rich kid'.

"You're one to talk. Your Potter fortune is one of the greatest amongst all purebloods in Britain." Tom pointed out.

"Fair enough." Harry sighed. "What are you going to do as a politican?" He prompted.

"Subtly influence the Wizengamot to see the err of their narrow-minded faith in the Light." Tom replied promptly. "Though, I'll be hard-pressed to find the patience to deal with the sniveling Ministry officials." He sneered.

Harry laughed and poked Tom in the side. "Honestly, I wouldn't be able to stomach their little games and groveling either. But if anyone could handle them, you and your charisma would be the one."

Tom sighed irritably. "Yes, I can play them easily, but it doesn't mean that I have to enjoy their presence. All this talk about politics is souring my mood. Distract me— what did you say you wanted to change in this life?" He shifted the topic.

Harry hummed as he mentally went over his plans. "I was thinking that you should summon your Death Eaters soon, and you could introduce me as a partner Dark Lord." He said gleefully, eyes glinting.

"A little bit presumptuous to assume that you'll be my fellow Dark Lord." Tom drawled.

"Please, you know that you love my Dark Lord persona." Harry grinned, baring his teeth in a devious smirk.

"That I do." Tom conceded. "Have you thought of a name for your Lordship title?"

Harry's smile turned feral. "I was wondering when you'd ask. What do you think of 'Lord Diabolus'?"

Tom gave Harry a deadpan stare. "Diabolus? Really?"

Harry sniffed. "We couldn't both have French-inspired names."

"So you chose Latin?" Tom quipped.

"Well, what about your name? Honestly, it's a miracle that no one's called you Moldyvort yet." Harry snorted in a dignified manner.

"Careful, beloved, I might just curse you for that." Tom warned Harry with mock seriousness.

"Poor Moldyvort. Don't like being laughed at?" Harry tilted his head in a false pout. Laughing, he leapt off the bed to duck the crucio curse and continued to giggle maniacally as Tom chased him out of the bedroom with hex after hex.

"Love you!" Harry shouted faintly from somewhere down the hallway, still cackling.

Tom sighed in amused exasperation before shooting a final curse at Harry's retreating figure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  
> Yeah Harry's definitely a little shit. Love him anyways, though. Kudos and comments are very much appreciated!
> 
>  **Also! Next chapter is going to be pure fluff. No heavy plot.** From now on, I'll have these unadulterated, all-organic, GMO-free crack/fluff/humor uploads **every other chapter.** Stay tuned for more wacky Tomarry!
> 
> Feel free to poke around my tumblr **[here](https://tired-luxis.tumblr.com/)**.
> 
> -Luxis  
> 


	3. --Life #20--

**Life #20 Case file:**  
**Who:**  
Tom is Austrinus Malfoy  
Harry is Caelus Selwyn  
**What:**  
Tom is the Malfoy Heir  
Harry is the Selwyn Heir  
**When:**  
Tom is born in 1863  
Harry is born in 1864  
**Where:**  
Magical Great Britain

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~~

Harry Potter sighed. He had been reborn in 1864, even though he'd explicitly asked Death to not do that. He'd have words with that incompetent immortal being when the time came.

Currently a seven-year-old, Harry was understandably irked with the situation. Having to redo childhood yet again was rather irritating since he had to pretend like he wasn't over a thousand years old. He'd stopped faking a lisp when he was two, and started to read the famous Selwyn book collection when he was three. Sure, he was considered a genius-prodigy now, but he couldn't care less. If he had to "pwetend to be a wittle toddwer one mo' time", he would probably throttle someone.

He spent his years, busy with the task of devouring the entire Selwyn library. Today, however, was an exception to his usual eat-read-sleep schedule. Much to his displeasure, his parents had dragged him away from the bookroom and into the entrance hall to greet some bigshot pureblood family or another. He stood stiffly by the staircase banister, trying to not let his scowl show.

Just as he began to fidget with his infernal, starchy collar, there was a slight pop as the apparition wards opened to allow their guests inside. Harry stared disinterestedly at them, a brief glance enough for him to guess that they were Malfoys. Apparently, the pointy-face, pale-blonde appearance was a trademark Malfoy look. Now that Harry had finished his duty of being a good little Selwyn Heir and greeting the guests, he deemed it safe to return to the library.

Harry was on the third stairstep when he halted. That feeling of serene _completion_ , of content _wholeness_ , of yearning _desire_ …

He turned slowly to face the guests again, and his searching gaze was met by the Malfoy Heir's arrogant one. Upon seeing Harry's slightly wide-eyed look, Tom had the actual audacity to smirk. Harry smiled sweetly back, the flickering amusement in his eyes the only indication that he wasn't a darling angel. He blew Tom a kiss while the Lords and Lady Malfoy and Selwyn weren't looking, and reveled in the way Tom sniffed haughtily in response.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

Having lead Tom upstairs while the adults were doing a boring chit-chat, Harry forcibly sat Tom down at the side of his bed before perching himself beside Tom.

"Look at you. Malfoy Heir, huh?" Harry remarked.

"Says the Selwyn Heir." Tom countered. "Besides, this Heirship status is befitting of my superior mannerisms and intellect."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Now you look and sound like a real Malfoy, you pompous nob."

"Speaking of looks, do you like this Malfoy aesthetic?" Tom gestured towards his general appearance.

Harry tilted his head to the side, surveying his soulmate. Tom had long, silken, blonde locks that fell below his shoulders, very much unlike Harry's waves of raven. His facial structure was as aristocratic and sharply angled as any Malfoy, and his tall height was also true to his Malfoy heritage. His eyes were a silvery-grey look that contrasted with Harry's hazel Selwyn ones, and his pale complexion was porcelain in comparison to Harry's slightly more tanned visage.

"You know, you look all right as a Malfoy." Harry said, which was an understatement. Tom looked fine as hell, but Harry wasn't going to inflate Tom's ego any more than it already was.

Judging from Tom's smug countenance, he could tell how much Harry actually liked it. "You didn't do too badly for yourself, Harry." He said, appreciatively looking Harry's Selwyn features up and down.

Harry laughed and nudged Tom. "Kiss me already, then."

Tom obliged, and he did so much more chastely than usual. Their biological bodies were seven and eight, respectively, after all.

"So what's this I hear about the Selwyn Heir being the most studious, boring, and reclusive bookworm of Britain?" Tom said when they pulled away.

Harry scowled. "I'm only 'reclusive' since everyone's so stupid. And I've heard my fair share of things about the Malfoy Heir too, you know. You're quite the swot yourself, apparently."

"That proves we're meant for each other, no?" Tom drawled.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

"Oh my gods!" Harry shrieked, running from a flock of furious cockatrices as quickly as his nine-year-old self could carry him.

Tom laughed delightedly as he unleashed a flood of his magic, further enraging the cockatrices.

"I swear, Tom, if my pretty face gets mauled—!" Harry threatened.

"Only I get to maul your face." Tom called over his shoulder, flashing Harry a suggestive smile as they continued to battle the cockatrices.

"Not the time for flirting, darling!" Harry shouted, ducking as a cockatrice tried to petrify him.

Scrambling down the precipice of a colossal mountain of stone, the two Heirs were quite a sight to see. Technically, it was all Tom's fault. They both acted like a paragon of pureblood heirship when in polite company, but when they managed to escape their parents, they were up to all sorts of mischief. Their current predicament was due to one of Tom's whims, as he had been the one to drag Harry to the cockatrice nest.

"I'll kill you if these cockatrices kill me!" Harry screamed at Tom as a cockatrice slammed its tail into him, sending him careening from the edge of the cliff.

"Stop being dramatic and actually use your magic when you fight." Tom rolled his eyes, knowing that Harry was deliberately only using minimal magic. Surely enough, not two seconds after Tom said that, Harry floated up from the chasm that he'd just fallen down.

Harry looked something like a pissed off deity as he ascended to rejoin Tom, his handsome features glowering at his soulmate and the cockatrice. With a flick of his finger, he sent the entire crowd of cockatrices flying. "Oi! I was trying to not use my excess magic, but you forced my hand, you wankers!" He said irritably to the dazed and battered cockatrices. By 'excess magic', Harry was referring to his magic accumulated from several rebirths.

Tom, not to be outdone, undid some of the restraints on his magical core and trapped the cockatrices in an invisible cage of forcefields.

"Show-off." Harry grumbled, still nursing a mildly bruised side.

"Will this make it up to you?" Tom said, offering Harry a newly shrunken cockatrice with its petrifying gaze nullified by Tom's magic. The sixty-foot creature was now no longer than Harry's arm, and it was still hissing angrily.

"What." Harry deadpanned, staring at the furious, tiny cockatrice.

"Think of it as a courting gift." Tom said with a straight face.

"We're soulmates, meaning courting is unnecessary." Harry pointed out. "Also, we're like, nine and ten years old."

"Maybe I just wanted to see what sort of idiocies you would get up to with a cockatrice as a pet."

"That's not very—" _‘Oh shut it, you.’_ Harry said irritably at the cockatrice when it continued to interrupt him with hissing.

The cockatrice went still so quickly that it was a little funny. _‘Stupid human is a Speaker?’_

 _‘Watch who you're calling stupid.’_ Harry poked the cockatrice in the side. _‘Would you like to be my 'pet'?’_ He asked it.

 _‘If so, will I be stuck this small forever?’_ The cockatrice complained.

 _‘No, but you'll have to remain this small for most of the time.’_ Harry informed him.

_‘Hmph. Will stupid human allow me to hunt whenever I want?’_

_‘Sure, if you don't kill anyone. Once Tom, the other Speaker, undoes his parselmagic that's currently muting your petrifying stare, you'll have to promise that you won't go around turning people to stone and killing them with a look.’_ Harry said pointedly.

 _‘Fine.’_ The cockatrice groused. _‘I'll be your familiar, then.’_

 _‘Deal.’_ Harry shook hands with the cockatrice's tail. _‘And since you called me 'stupid human', I'll call you Bob.’_

Tom's eye was twitching. "…you have a pet cockatrice, and you're calling it Bob." He said, his expression pained.

"Yup." Harry said cheerfully.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

Harry, now a fourth year Ravenclaw at Hogwarts while Tom was a fifth year Slytherin, smiled politely as he walked up to the front of the Hall to receive his Special Services to the School award. He'd maintained his outwards quiet, bookworm, withdrawn façade, and everyone thought he was the stereotypical straight-O student. So, it was no surprise to the Hogwarts students when he invented a set of wards that would now be implemented on the Hogwarts castle and received an award for his revolutionary contribution.

On his way back upstairs to the Ravenclaw tower from the Great Hall, he was alone in the fourth floor corridor when someone pulled him into an empty classroom.

"Wha—"

"Shhh," A voice said, silencing Harry with a hard kiss.

"Tom, if you wanted to kiss me so badly, you could have just asked." Harry said when they separated, glancing at his soulmate in amusement.

"Didn't want to wait." Tom said curtly, taking the shorter wizard by the collar and pressing another kiss onto Harry's soft lips. Without breaking the kiss, he repositioned Harry so that Harry was sitting upon a desk, their hips level and Harry's legs spread apart.

Tom cupped Harry's cheek and caressed it, moving his thumb in soothing, circular motions. He reached out with the other hand, causing Harry to gasp as Tom's long, nimble fingers brushed against nape of his hair.

The tingling sensation increased at the base of Harry's neck until Tom abruptly grasped Harry's curls with a firm grip. He yanked hard, and Harry found that he liked the rough movement. Tom alternated between pulling at Harry's supple locks and massaging his tensed form, eventually pausing to unbutton Harry's uniform.

Harry felt the cold air envelop his exposed torso, but Tom's gentle fingertips soon replaced the uncomfortable sensation with his thrilling touch. Tom continued to trace patterns over Harry's bare skin, and Harry clenched his torso tight in response.

Tom ended their long kiss and pressed his lips over Harry's collarbone, leaving light, scintillating kisses as he worked his way up Harry's neck. He licked and nibbled, the skin contact pleasant and gentle. Then, he suddenly bit down upon Harry's skin, causing Harry to yelp in surprise. Tom sucked at the bite mark before soothing it with his tongue, and when finished, he moved on to leave another wine-colored mark at the shadow of Harry's jaw.

As Tom continued to kiss and leave love-marks, Harry moaned in pleasure, the rough but sweet claiming too much for him. Tom was still yanking at Harry's hair, exposing more of his neck. He pulled at Harry's earlobe with his teeth and gradually eased as Harry's breathing steadied.

Harry was still panting slightly, his eyes blown wide with lust. Tom's silver-grey gaze expressed his approval as he surveyed his supplicant lover.

"What brought this on?" Harry managed finally, trying to not let his breath hitch as Tom ran a finger over Harry's chest.

"You." Tom said by Harry's ear, his voice low and seductive.

"I figured as much." Harry said, his voice slightly higher than usual. "Could you be more specific?"

"Your intellectual prowess—" He kissed Harry's neck. "Is so—" He kissed Harry again. "Arousing."

"I take it that you liked seeing my wards go up around Hogwarts?" Harry smiled, placing a hand to Tom's handsome countenance.

Tom chose to answer by pressing a knee between Harry's spread legs, his thigh firm and muscled. Harry almost gasped again when Tom's leg brushed against Harry's crotch.

"Oh, Harry. Do you have any idea what you do to me?" Tom rumbled.

"I think I have a good idea, yeah." Harry laughed, his pitch a little breathy.

"Good." Tom growled, pulling Harry close against him with renewed force.

Harry returned Tom's ministrations, brushing a hand over Tom's long, blonde hair. Tom's hair was fluid and like quicksilver in the flickering light, and he loved the way it looked. Harry undid Tom's tie with a bit of wandless magic and proceeded to undress Tom's upper half, leaving him looking much less impeccably posh as usual. The robes and shirt pooled to the ground, and the feel of Tom's skin against Harry's inadvertently caused him to wrap his legs around the small of Tom's back.

Tom's hand strayed below Harry's navel, his touch moving lower and lower until it slipped below Harry's waistband. Harry stilled, his hand catching Tom's.

"What if someone sees us?" He said, trying to shake the arousal that was clouding his thoughts.

"So what?" Tom frowned, unhappy that he'd been interrupted.

"Neither of us have come out yet, and no one knows about our relationship." Harry said, trying to not squirm at the way Tom was so delightfully playing with Harry's sensitive skin.

"No one will find us." Tom reassured him. "I guarantee it, and Malfoys don't make guarantees they can't keep."

With that, Tom resumed his kisses. He undid Harry's belt impatiently and unzipped Harry's trousers. The feel of Tom's hand stroking Harry's length was enough to send all his blood rushing southwards. There was only a thin layer of cotton separating Harry's straining arousal from Tom's dancing fingertips. Harry groaned, Tom's touches almost overwhelming in their erotic nature. Tom continued along this line until Harry finally reached his completion, slumping against Tom as his soulmate soon followed after.

Needless to say, by the time Tom was done with Harry, he was looking far more disheveled than usual. Tom gave Harry one last parting kiss before they parted ways for their common rooms. Harry unconsciously raised a hand to his lips, retracing the touch of Tom's against his. Honestly, his soulmate was too good at this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: There will be these little half-chapters **every other upload.** Not all of them will contain smut, but ALL of them will be unadulterated, organic, GMO-free crackshots and fluff. They will be marked by "--(insert title)--" at the chapter title spot. Ie, "Chapter 3: --Life #20--"
> 
> I'll alternate between different lives per each half-chapter. Ie, chapter 3 (this one) was about life #20, chapter 5 will be about their 23rd life, chapter 7 will be about life #16, and 9 will be about life #31. I'll return to their 20th life on chapter #6.5, since I'll periodically write more about aforementioned lives in later chapters.
> 
> Feel free to poke around my tumblr **[here](https://tired-luxis.tumblr.com/)**. 
> 
> -Luxis


	4. Death Eater Affairs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, folks, we're **back to the main plot** of Eternal Hilarity! And don't forget-- next week will feature another half-chapter describing one of Tom/Harry's previous lives. Those little half-chapters will be coming every other upload :)
> 
>  **Recap of previous main-plot chapter** :  
> Harry was reborn back into his first life, and Death creates a pseudo-Horcrux in Harry's scar since they're only making fake Horcruxes for Dumbleore to find this time around. While at the Dursleys, Harry keeps them under control before eventually leaving at the age of four. He assumes his Eternal Self (it's how old he appears in the afterlife, which is twenty-something years old), goes to Gringotts, and reunites with Tom.

Harry was awoken the next morning by something soft being tossed unceremoniously on his face. With a grunt, he sat up and glared sleepily at Tom. "What was that for?" He demanded indignantly.

Without sparing Harry a second glance, Tom continued to button up his shirt. "Those will be your Lord Diabolus robes." He answered, pointing to the folded fabric that he had thrown on Harry's side of the bed.

Harry looked over the bundle with interest. He held the robes up at arm's length, surveying them critically. It was made of the same dark fabric as Tom's Voldemort clothes. The only difference was that there was a small, shimmering, silk-embroidered crimson rose intertwined with a glittering green snake above the lapel of Harry's robes. What made Harry particularly fascinated was the mask that was laid to the side of the robes. The mask was snow-white, smooth, and the middle was plated in gold and ornate, silver, swirl-like patterns. He recognized it as a feminine Volto masquerade mask, and it was truly beautiful and haunting.

"Did you pick the mask yourself?" Harry commented.

"Yes, I did. Only the finest for my beloved." Tom drawled, shouldering on his own robes.

"How sweet." Harry remarked, blowing Tom a kiss and batting his eyes flirtatiously. "It's almost like you didn't cast the Unforgiveables at me last night."

Tom paused to glare at Harry. "You were being annoying."

"Like you aren't just as insufferable." Harry shot back, sticking his tongue out impishly.

"Remind me how I got stuck with such a madman?" Tom sighed in exasperation.

Harry bounded over, throwing his arms around Tom and kissing him. "It's because you're my cute little soulmate, darling. And last time I checked, you're the one who's the madman, Lord Voldemort."

"No, I'm just a little psychopathic." Tom corrected Harry with a straight face after pushing him away.

Harry snorted and yanked on his robes, looking in the mirror when he was done. "I take it that we're going to be welcoming your Death Eaters later today?"

"How could you tell?" Tom said airily, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves.

"Aside from the fact that we're both in our big, bad, Dark Lord costumes? No clue." Harry grinned.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

The Death Eater gathering was very boring. The only source of entertainment for Harry was the obvious terror that the Death Eaters felt towards him. For good measure, he'd spoken in only Parseltongue the entire meeting just to make them quake in fear at the sound of the serpent language. In his Lord Diabolus disguise, he looked even more threatening. Tom, who had gotten used to Harry's antics, only gave Harry a few reproving looks before giving up and leaving Harry to his own devices. 

Just as Harry thought he was about to die from boredom, the doors slammed open. Snape had finally decided to show up. Harry giggled maniacally and immediately abandoned the poor Death Eater that he'd been toying with, choosing to instead focus his attention on the newly arrived potions master.

"Why, Severus! So good to see you." He chirped, practically skipping over.

Snape watched him warily, evidently unable to recognize who Harry was. "My apologies. I do not seem to have made your acquaintance yet."

Harry pouted. "You don't know me? For your information, I'm Lord Diabolus, your best friend. And I'm rather hurt that you'd be on such friendly terms with Dumbledore, but not with me."

Snape paled a shade but quickly recovered. "Perhaps my Lord misunderstands the nature of my relationship with Albus Dumbledore."

Harry tilted his head to the side curiously. "Really? Don't tell me— are you _more_ than friends? Bosom confidants, maybe?"

Several Death Eaters choked at this and Snape's eyes bugged out in astonishment. "Wha..." He said, at a complete loss at words.

Harry laughed airily and waved his hand dismissively at the shocked potions master. "You're right, Severus, that was a rather ridiculous comment. How about we move past this charade and get to the point? Tell me, Severus, why is it that you remain so loyal to the old man? Perhaps... is it the Unbreakable Vow tying you to Dumbledore? But no, that shouldn't be true. After all, you swore the vow to Harry Potter, not that wizened fool, no?"

Snape blanched. "My Lord must be mistaken—"

Harry cut him off with a silencing flick of his hand. Smirking, Harry stalked towards the shell-shocked man and leaned forward. "Lord Diabolus knows many things, Severus, and your treachery is one of them." Harry said in a low purr, his lips only inches from Snape's ear.

Snape shivered in fear and wetted his lips, desperately trying to keep calm. "Lord Diabolus knows well that I only pander to the old fool to spy for my Lord."

Harry raised a brow. "Do I, Severus? Or rather, do you really think your Lords are naïve enough to believe your excuses? Oh, my little Occlumens, your barriers are _nothing_ to me." Harry grinned ferally, grabbing Snape by the chin and forcing eye contact. Harry deliberately bludgeoned his way into Snape's mind, obliterating Snape's respectable Occlumens barriers like child's play.

Snape reeled back, his eyes wide in horror. "M-my Lord, I assure you—

Harry interrupted him by pulling himself from Snape's mind with a deliberately painful yank, leaving Snape clutching his head. "Severus, Severus." Harry tsked, soothingly stroking Snape's pained features. "A traitorous spy should always know that such Occlumency barriers, though passable, do arouse suspicion and will not hold against my Legilimency."

"H-how?" Snape choked out, head still throbbing.

"Severus, isn't it a little odd that you would feel such protectiveness for the spawn of your greatest bully, James Charlus Potter? Especially when you're certain that the boy will be a carbon copy of him. Is it Harry Potter's emerald eyes that convince you that he'll be worth protecting? Or, is it your infatuation with a woman that would have never reciprocated? I find it fascinating that you would beg to spare only her life. Imagine if she had lived— would she ever have forgiven you for allowing her husband and son to die? Would she have forgiven you for being the one to bring the prophecy to the Dark Lord? Dear, dear. She would hate you even more than when you uttered the word —'mudblood'— that ended your friendship."

Snape flinched, the truth of Harry's words like a physical blow.

"In fact, considering how much you abhor James Potter for loving Lily Evans, and for having a child with her, I find it hilarious that you would swear an Unbreakable Vow to protect the child. Dumbledore can be so delightfully manipulative when he wants to be, mm?"

Snape's face had turned ashen. "M-My Lord—"

"Severus, I am providing you with two options today— either you swear an Unbreakable Vow of loyalty to only your Lords and renounce any ties of loyalty to others, or you die." Harry hissed with a mad glint in his eyes.

"But the Vow— it would conflict with the one I swore to Harry P-Potter, my Lord—"

"Still resisting? We'll have to rectify that... _Crucio_!" Harry sang, training his wand upon the now-thrashing and screaming Snape.

With a vindictive slashing motion, Harry ended the curse. "Listen closely, Severus." Harry said in a pleasant voice, the deadly glimmer in his eyes contradicting his tone. "I do care about you, you know. Because I am a merciful Lord, I will provide you a chance to redeem yourself. Swear the Vow, because it will not conflict with your Vow to Potter. I promise you that we will not kill Harry Potter, and any plans that we have for him will be executed only with his consent."

Snape eyed them cautiously, still shaking from the force of Harry's torture curse. "T-Thank you, my Lord."

"Now swear the vow." Harry commanded.

"I, Severus Snape, swear upon my magic that I will only give my true loyalty to Lord Voldemort, Lord Diabolus, and their cause. I swear that I will not reveal anything of theirs without their consent, and that I will only interact with Albus Dumbledore and his men to serve my Lords and the Dark. This is given that Harry James Potter will not be killed or forced into my Lords' plans without his knowledge and consent."

The magic wound around his wand, encircling the three of them. Harry snorted at the last bit of the Vow; Snape was very careful with his phrasing.

"Good. Severus, does Dumbledore know of you being called to a Death Eater meeting?"

Snape shook his head.

"Excellent. Do not tell him of the Dark Lords' return. If he ever starts to think that Voldemort is back, use your Slytherin cunning and soothe his fears. Now, give me your left arm."

Snape hesitantly held out his arm as asked. Harry pressed his wand into Snape's mark, dulling the stain of the Dark Mark it until it was as faded as before. "There. Now the old man will not be so easily suspicious."

Voldemort, who had been watching Harry with growing amusement, dismissed Snape and the remaining Death Eaters with a wave of his hand.

"You're so delightfully cruel, beloved." Tom murmured, taking down his Voldemort glamor. Harry, in turn, released his Eternal Self modifications until he was back to his original Eternal Self appearance.

"You know you like it, darling." Harry sang, kissing Tom.

After a moment of this frivolity, Tom stepped away with a frown. "What should we do about the other traitors?"

"Who, Pettigrew and Karkaroff?" Harry guessed. When Tom nodded, he continued. "I suggest we force Karkaroff's loyalty to us. After all, it would be useful to have the Headmaster of a large school under our control. If he doesn't comply, we could always kill him and place one of our men in his position, or sway the new headmaster. And as for Peter, let's leave him alone for now. He won't be able to feel the Dark Mark burn in his animagus form, meaning that he'll be clueless about all gatherings since he's constantly in his rat body. Also, I have some lovely little plans for him once I return to Hogwarts." Harry finished with an evil smile.

"I'll let you have your way with Pettigrew. But as for the subject of Karkaroff, he's probably already on the run, and you know how much I detest such irritating, trivial matters of chasing him down." Tom pointed out.

Harry scoffed at this. "I'm fairly certain that he's back at his shack up North that he hid out in during our first life. I'll go retrieve him."

Tom patted Harry on the back. "I would go with you, but I have a Wizengamot meeting in half an hour."

"Right, I almost forgot about your position as Lord Valerius, new member of the Wizengamot and subject of the latest celebrity gossip." Harry said dryly. "Have you been invited to any high society gatherings yet? Or had to fend off any reporters?"

"I've had eight marriage contracts sent my way, fourteen courtship offers, thirteen interview offers, twenty-one invitations, and countless fanmail for my work on the latest bill in Wizengamot. It was a public Wizengamot session, you know, and I made quite the impression." Tom smirked.

"And you only came out as Lord Valerius two weeks ago." Harry said, impressed. "Your popularity might give the Boy-Who-Lived a run for his money."

"I should hope so." Tom sniffed.

"In fact, you may be as popular as the Malfoy heir you were reincarnated into in our twentieth life. After the party of 1882, I think everyone looked at you in new light. And when you bought that private island? Definitely a killer move."

"…Harry, I thought we agreed to not bring that life up again ever since we left Purgatory."

Harry grinned devilishly and skipped away.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

The next day, Tom was sipping tea in the study room and reading the day's newspaper. Harry barged into the hallway in his full Lord Diabolus getup, Igor Karkaroff blindfolded, trussed and tied up like a pig, levitated behind him. 

Harry dumped the man onto the ground by their coffee table. "Tada!" He chirped brightly, jumping onto Tom's lap. Tom scowled and pushed Harry off with mock irritation.

Tom reinstated his Voldemort glamor before removing Karkaroff's blindfold. Harry lazily cast a crucio to wake the unconscious Karkaroff. After an hour's worth of intimidation, secrecy vows, re-swearing allegiance, and added torture playtime for Harry, they released a thoroughly dazed and terrified Karkaroff.

"Now that we've taken care of that filth, let's talk about something more pleasant." Harry brushed his hands free of Karkaroff's grime. "How did your day go?"

"The Wizengamot session wasn't much more enjoyable than dealing with Karkaroff." Tom said disdainfully. "I had to argue on the behalf of an amendment to the Statue of Secrecy and deal with Dumbledore's irritating propaganda to sway enough votes to pass it. He's the head of the Whigbagger political party, which conflicts with our Federalist party."

"How many votes do you as an individual Lord have?" Harry asked.

"Valerius house owns four seats. You actually own eleven." Tom informed Harry.

"I do?" Harry blinked in surprise.

"Yes. The Potters had two seats, Peverells have one, and your various lords gave their seats to you for the defeat of Lord Voldemort, totaling to eight seats donated."

Harry laughed aloud at the irony. "Those lords who gave me their seats probably thought it'd be used to put the Dark in its place. They're going to be somersaulting in their graves once I get my hands on the seats and vote in favor of your cause."

Tom gave a sharklike smile. "Doesn't matter. Your seats are enough to sway the Wizengamot majority to our side."

"Should I cast my votes now? Or should I wait?"

Tom thought for a moment. "Wait for now. We don't want Dumbledore catching onto our plans until later."

Harry pouted. "All right, but when it comes time for us to turnover the Wizengamot majority, I get to throw a party."

Tom almost rolled his eyes at this. "Whatever you say. And if you truly wanted legal representation, you could emerge as Lord Peverell in your Eternal Form and enter Wizengamot with a politician alter ego like I did." Tom suggested.

Harry recoiled in disgust. "Nuh-uh. I'm not getting near politics until the time comes when I have to. I had enough exposure to that nasty world in our twenty-third life."

Tom smirked. "Why, was being the First Gentleman too much for you?"

Harry groaned. "Don't mention that title in front of me. ' _First Gentleman'._ Blegh."

"They couldn't call you 'First Lady', could they?" Tom pointed out.

"Not my fault we were the first gay couple in the White House." Harry grumbled. "You would've thought that the Founding Fathers might have considered that one day it might not be a woman married to the president, but nooooooo. They had to give it a gender specific title."

"There was a perfect chaos while everyone tried to decide what to name you, considering they couldn't call a male the 'First Lady'." Tom said complacently.

"Oi! You didn't have to deal with the tabloids and frantic press. They idolized you— 'President this, President that, such an amazing President, so handsome'—! But for me, on the other hand, it was all 'ooooh, the First Gentleman, wonder what their gay sex is like'." Harry snorted.

Tom leaned in for a kiss. "I think it's abundantly clear that our sex life is amazing."

Harry pushed him away, scowling. "You're a twat." He scolded Tom.

"That's not what the press was saying in that life." Tom drawled.

"Leave me alone." Harry said grumpily.

Tom ignored him and brushed his lips against Harry's neck. "You sure you want that?" He murmured.

Harry stubbornly crossed his arms. "Seducing me won't work, you know."

"Is that so?" Tom purred, trailing kisses down Harry's exposed collarbone.

Harry stifled a gasp, doing his best to not show how affected he was by Tom's masterful touch. That absolute wanker was impossible to stay annoyed with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  
> I assure you that we'll have a lot more cracky Dark-Lord-Diabolus/Harry in the future starting from this third year, and it'll be super funny watching him baffle and terrify Lucius/Snape. If you don't like political intrigue, never fear since there isn't much of it until Harry's fifth year. It'll be behind-the-scenes, but Harry will poke fun at Tom's suave politician self occasionally. Cuz Harry's a sniggering troll.
> 
> Also! Next chapter is going to be pure crack/fluff again. No heavy plot. Just 100% humor and crack. Don't forget that I have these unadulterated, all-organic, GMO-free crack/fluff/humor uploads every other chapter. Stay tuned for more wacky Tomarry!
> 
> Feel free to poke around my tumblr **[here](https://tired-luxis.tumblr.com/)**.
> 
> -Luxis


	5. --Life #23--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tada! It's another half-chapter of cracky humor and fluffiness (not part of the main plot).

**Life #23 Case file:**

**Who:**

Tom is Lucas Grey

Harry is Nathaniel Wilson

**What:**

Tom is the President, and before that he was a Senator and later the Majority Leader of Democratic Party

Harry is the First Gentleman/First Lady, and is also the professor of political science at Stanford. He's also married to Tom.

**When:**

Tom is born in 1994

Harry is born in 1999

**Where:**

Muggle America

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

_"Oi! You didn't have to deal with the tabloids and frantic press. They idolized you— 'President this, President that, such an amazing President, so handsome'—! But for me, on the other hand, it was all 'ooooh, the First Gentleman, wonder what their gay sex is like'." Harry snorted._

_Tom leaned in for a kiss. "I think it's abundantly clear that our sex life is amazing."_

_Harry pushed him away, scowling. "You're a twat." He scolded Tom._

_"That's not what the press was saying in that life." Tom drawled._

_"Leave me alone." Harry said grumpily._

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

The headlines said it all on the day after 2036's Presidential election.

CNN: **FIRST GAY PRESIDENT, LUCAS GREY**

New York Times: **LANDSLIDE ELECTION FOR DEMOCRAT CANDIDATE**

The Washington Post **: LUCAS GREY TAKES THE ELECTION BY STORM**

Daily Mail: **HOT NEW PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES: LUCAS GREY**

Back in the Grey private residence, Harry groaned and dropped his head into his hands. When Tom had decided to run for president, Harry hadn't expected the media to be this annoying.

Then again, Tom had always been under public scrutiny since he was so influential. He was a senator since the age of 29, and later became the Majority Leader of his Party. Now, Tom was the youngest president to be elected ever, and according to the latest gossip magazines, he was also the most attractive one yet.

That was probably the only thing that the media had gotten right— his husband was indeed a looker. Somehow, Tom managed to be drop-dead gorgeous no matter what life they were reborn into.

Still observing the magazine cover's photo of Tom, Harry's mental musings were interrupted when Tom approached from behind and embraced him.

Resting his cheek on Harry's shoulder, Tom leaned in to kiss the shadow of Harry's jaw. "What do you think of the press coverage of this presidential election? Are the pictures taken at a flattering angle?" He murmured by Harry's ear.

Harry turned around to face Tom and swatted his hand aside. " _All_ angles are flattering when it comes to you." He laughed.

"Do you find me that attractive?" Tom smirked.

Harry crossed his arms. "Drop the smug look, you haughty bastard. You absolute wanker. You handsome prat. You bloody Adonis. Hurry up and kiss me already." He demanded.

Tom chuckled under his breath and obliged. He grasped Harry's chin with a gentle hand and drew Harry close, their lips meeting in a delightful touch. The kiss was slow and loving, unlike their usual hard and passionate. Tom sometimes would be softer with his loving ministrations, since it was his way of cherishing his soulmate. Harry, for his part, didn't mind the variety of Tom's ways. Tom was amazing no matter what he did, honestly.

After a while longer of Tom's probing, sensual touches and their lengthy kiss, they pulled apart with mutual looks of content fondness. "You're so good at this." Harry sighed, leaning against Tom's chest.

"I know I am." Tom said, his silken voice carrying an undertone of arrogance.

"Git." Harry said, pushing him away gently with a smile. "Oh, and I almost forgot— congratulations upon being elected, President-elect Grey."

"Why thank you, Nathaniel." He said smoothly, using Harry's given name in this life.

Tom cupped Harry's cheek before brushing a thumb over the side of Harry's visage. Harry would have gladly allowed Tom to continue in this manner, but a quick glance at the clock reminded him that he had to leave soon.

"Sorry, Tom." Harry said regretfully, extricating himself from Tom's hold. "I've have a lecture to give in less than half an hour, and I've got to get to the campus early too."

Tom frowned. "Can't it wait?"

Harry sighed. "You know it can't." He said reprovingly.

Tom looked displeased. "Fine, but you'll have to make it up to me when you get back.

"Deal." Harry smiled, giving Tom a final kiss.

~~~~~______~~~~~_____~~~~~

It took his chauffeur less than twenty minutes to drive from the house to Stanford's campus. Harry took the shortcut to his lecture hall, managing to arrive reasonably early. 

He was the professor of political science at Stanford, and had only been given the job last year. Considering that he was barely thirty-seven years old, it was still a remarkable accomplishment to be offered such a high position at such a young age. Besides, Harry already had an excellent reputation as an expert on political dissertations, and he was treated with respect by his colleagues and students for that as well. Essentially, he was very well-liked by all for his personality, teaching style, and expertise.

Today's lecture went without a hitch, and it was as informative and thorough as usual. They had ten minutes until the class period was over, and Harry decided to spend the remaining time in an Open-Question discussion. These Open-Question sessions allowed students to ask Harry whatever they wanted, so long as it was related in some form to politics.

The first question, predictably, was about the election. "Dr. Wilson, to what extent would you consider Grey's Jacksonville speech a major factor in his Florida win?"

"Good question, Mister Farnes." He nodded. "The issue of Wilson's majority win in Florida is incredibly complicated, and I could probably write several weeks' worth of analysis on the subject alone. The short answer, however, is that the Jacksonville rally was only so famed due to it coinciding with the increasing pro-Democrat support and anti-Republican backlash following the previous president's incompetency in domestic policy."

"What do you think of the new president?" A girl called from the back.

"That's a broad question, Miss Lott— care to specify what aspect you're referring to? Do you wish to discuss his prowess as a speaker, capabilities as a policymaker, experience as a Majority Leader in Senate, or his potential political decisions?"

The girl, Lott, grinned devilishly. "I was asking about something else. Do you think he's cute?"

Harry blinked. "I'm afraid that it wouldn't be very professional nor in accordance with proper decorum if I were to answer that." Also, Tom was his husband, and he'd neglected to tell his students that. Harry hadn't intentionally kept his marriage a secret; he simply forgot to mention it when he first started teaching, and never bothered to clarify later.

"But Dr. Wilson, we're curious." Lott almost whined. "If it makes you feel better, we think Lucas Grey is absolutely delectable."

Several of the students laughed at that, and they nodded to affirm her statement. Harry smiled wryly. "And why would you care if I find him 'absolutely delectable'?" He said in amusement.

"Because you get this look in your eyes whenever you talk about Grey." Lott said without hesitation, unable to help herself. "You practically glow when you're talking about him— we've made a betting pool and everything on whether you're secretly in love with him or not. We’ve also created several ship names too— 'Lucthaniel' is the most popular one as of now."

The students were giggling now, but none of them denied it. At this, Harry couldn't suppress the flare of mischief he felt at her words. This would be an opportune moment to properly shock the students, and he couldn't let the chance slip by.

Still smiling, Harry leaned forward a little as he made to answer Lott's question. "Why, Miss Lott, your question is rather ridiculous since there's only one possible answer. Of course I'm in love with Lucas— he's my husband, after all."

Jaws dropped in unison. Lott's eyes widened comically, and she wasn't the only one who was stunned by Harry's words. "Dr. Wilson, you're just kidding, right?" She said weakly.

Harry smirked and flashed her the magnificent emerald ring on his left hand's fourth finger. "I assure you, Miss Lott, that I spoke only the truth. Lucas and I have been married since we were twenty-four and nineteen, respectively."

"Wha—" She stammered.

Harry reached inside his briefcase and pulled out a photo of him and Tom kissing on their wedding day. "Need more proof, Miss Lott?" He drawled.

Several of the students in the front row wolf-whistled when they saw the picture. It was a rather pleasing image, Harry supposed. Tom had always been a zealous kisser, and the photograph certainly had captured Tom's possessive nature in his stance and in the way he held Harry.

Upon seeing the picture, Lott seemed to regain her voice. "But you never told us that you were married to the hottest politician in history!" She blurted out.

Harry shrugged. "Most politicians in America have been old, balding, white men. I don't think there's much competition for Lucas in that department."

"He's still better looking than a Calvin Klein model, though!" A boy from the left shouted. The students hooted their agreement, and Harry once again questioned how the pupils even at Stanford were so immature.

"I'm not saying you're wrong about that." Harry said nonchalantly. "I just don't see why I needed to inform you of my relationship with Lucas."

"If you hadn't told us, we would never have guessed! Plus, your last name is different from his too." Another boy protested.

Harry fixed the student with a stern look. "There is no rule that married couples must share a surname, you know. Further, I was the one who got the doctorate in political science, not him, so it should be 'Dr. Wilson' and not 'Dr. Grey'."

Just then, the bell rang. Few students moved, though, since they were too busy staring in shock at Harry. Harry found the entire situation very entertaining, and he walked out before the students could return to their senses and bombard him with questions.

~~~~~_____~~~~~_____~~~~~

It was four in the afternoon when Tom's limousine pulled into the campus's main driveway. Harry had to resist the urge to roll his eyes; Tom typically had a chauffeur find Harry in a secluded area of the school instead. He'd probably wanted to prove his claim on Harry after he'd heard about the day's earlier revelations— Harry himself had texted Tom to let him know that he'd somewhat inadvertently revealed that he was President Grey's unknown lover. Tom was openly gay, but no one had known that he had been 'taken', married, and happily in love for the past decade and a half.

Hence, it was to the paparazzi and students' great delight when Tom himself stepped out of the Porsche Cayenne limo. The excited babbling grew in volume when Tom pulled Harry into his arms and gave him a sweeping kiss. By the time they were finished, those in their near vicinity were swooning and flushed.

Without further ado, Tom escorted Harry inside the vehicle. He rolled up the windows, his impassive expression sending a clear 'Let them say what they want' message. As they drove away, Harry heard the triumphant yell of someone from the crowd.

"Holy  _shit_ are they hot!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love **each and every one of you readers** and am incredibly grateful for all your support. Thanks for taking the time to read this fic, everyone!
> 
> Unrelated, but somehow Tom is undeniably gorgeous no matter which life they're in. Harry is always attractive as well, which is probably Death's fault for furnishing him and Tom with such excellently pleasing features in all their rebirths. Also, I really enjoyed writing the scene where Harry drops the bombshell that 'oh! Guess what? I'm married to the hottiest guy in the world who happens to be the newly-elected president!'
> 
> Yeah, Harry's a twat. Gotta love him for it anyways.
> 
> -Luxis


	6. Screwing with Dumbledore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand we're back to our usual broadcasting. Thus, now the main plot shall commence!
> 
>  **Recap of the previous main-plot chapter** :  
> Harry had his fun with Snape and other cronies of Voldemort. Also, Tom announced his return in all his Snake-Face glory at the Death Eater meeting (they're staying on the low for now, though, since they don't want the Phoenix/Ministry to know prematurely).

Tom and Harry spent the next few years going about their usual Death Eater business. Recruiting was one of their highest priorities, and by the time Harry was almost eleven, their numbers had increased dramatically. Most of the new recruits were young adults with a combination of intellect, political promise, influence, prestige, wealth, name, loyalty, and skill.

There would have been even more Death Eaters active, but a good portion of them remained incarcerated in Azkaban. Harry wanted to break them out and take Sirius too, but he couldn't because it would raise undue suspicion. They weren't planning on revealing Lord Diabolus and Lord Voldemort's return anytime soon, and so most regretfully, they had to leave things as they were for the time being.

Tom had also been hiding his fake Horcruxes, knowing that Dumbledore probably would start searching for Tom's immortality anchors and discover the use of Horcruxes soon. The fake Horcruxes were very realistic, courtesy of Death, and Harry took great delight in devising some of the most infuriating, torturous defense mechanisms to stump Dumbledore in the event that the old man managed to locate the pseudo-Horcruxes.

Anyhow, they were quite busy with or without Azkaban trysts. Tom had become a master at seamlessly changing personas from Lord Valerius, de facto leader of the Federalist party in Wizengamot, to Lord Voldemort. Harry was switching between his Lord Diabolus persona, his Eternal Self, and occasionally popping into the Dursley household to re-establish wards that he had created to mimic the blood wards Lily gave him. Harry had long since stopped considering the Dursleys as family, thus, the actual wards had fallen long ago. To prevent Dumbledore from finding out about this, Harry had been annually replenishing and creating false replacement wards. It was a tricky bit of magic, but he could pull it off. On the bright side, he didn't need to worry about the Dursleys squealing to Dumbledore about how Harry had moved out many years ago, since he'd already forced them into secrecy via magical means.

As of now, Harry had just renewed the wards, and he was heading back to the manor.

"Tom!" He said cheerfully, enveloping Tom in a hug. They had to take advantage of moments like these when neither were busy and the Death Eaters weren't around, after all.

Tom extricated himself from Harry's embrace while smiling fondly down at him. "I haven't seen you all day." He sighed.

Tom bent down to kiss Harry, pulling at Harry's luscious bottom lip. Harry reciprocated, stumbling a little when Tom pulled him closer against his chest. Tom deepened the kiss and sensually moved his fingertips along the side of Harry's jaw in soothing, circular movements. In retaliation, Harry stepped forward until Tom fell backwards into a chair. Without breaking the kiss, Harry leaned over Tom to straddle his lap, and almost giggled at the look of surprise on Tom's face.

When Harry tried to pull away, Tom growled and tightened his hold on Harry's back. He pressed kisses atop the upturned corners of Harry's lips, egging on Harry's breathy laugh.

Just then, there was a _crack_ as something materialized behind them. "Master, I— _Oh holy Mother of Fate_! I did _not_ want to see that, Circe, I'm scarred for life—!" A familiar voice wailed.

Harry yelped and leapt away from Tom. "Death?!" He exclaimed in a slightly higher voice than usual, a blush tinging his cheeks.

Death's skeletal hands were clawing at his sockets, evidently distressed. "My Gods, Harry, I did not want to accidentally walk in on my Master getting romantic with his soulmate, and oh sacred mother of Morgana, my sanity, my eyes, my innocence—" He yelped, dropping his scythe to clutch at his eyesockets.

"Hey! If you gave us a little warning, this wouldn't have happened." Harry protested. "Besides, we weren't really doing anything. Just kissing."

"Even still, I am Death, not some flowery god of love." Death bemoaned.

"Oh, shut up, will you?" Harry snapped defensively. "Why are you here anyways?" He changed the subject.

Death gave a little start, clearly having forgotten what he wanted to say in that moment of embarrassment. "Thanks for reminding me— I need to warn you that your Hogwarts letter was sent two days ago and Hagrid's coming to the Dursleys to talk to you in an hour."

Harry jumped up in alarm. "The letter was sent two days ago?! To what address?"

Death would have rolled his eyes if he them. "Do you seriously doubt my magic? I fooled their tracking systems that it would mistakenly address the envelope to Privet Drive."

Harry sighed in relief. "I suppose I'll have to head over to the Dursleys then." He said in resignation.

"Do you have to?" Tom sighed.

"Unfortunately, yes." Harry grumbled. "Except, I'll make this hilarious and worth it."

Harry's eyes practically glinted with malice and unspoken schemes. Tom smirked, knowing that whatever Harry devised, it would be very entertaining.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

When Harry got back to the Dursleys, he implanted memories into their minds that made them believe that he'd been at Privet Drive this entire time, and he made sure that the memories were very similar to how he'd actually lived at Privet Drive during his first life. He'd also returned to his biological body, and was now a slightly scrawny eleven-year-old. With a flick of his hand, Harry redecorated the cupboard to make it look as though it had been lived in, and he made sure that it was as pitiful, shabby, and squalid as possible. For dramatic effect, he added the bolts and locks that Vernon had installed in his second year. As a final touch, Harry hopped to the flowerbeds when he was done, adding dirt and grime to his skin to look like he'd been working at chores for some while.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a huge, hulking form in the distance, and heard the sound of a roaring motorcycle. Harry ducked into the house and awaited Hagrid with an evil grin.

Not too long after, three booming knocks sounded, and the resounding echoes were more like cannon blasts than anything else.

"Who in the ruddy hell is that?" Vernon roared from the living room, not looking up from his newspaper. "Get the door, boy!" He commanded Harry.

Harry obliged, assuming his meek and timid self. He opened the door and allowed his eyes to widen, stared with his mouth agape at the giant.

Hagrid stood there, beaming, but suddenly, Harry gave a long, drawn-out, bloodcurling _scream._

"Aunt Petunia! Uncle Vernon! It's one of the freaks that you warned me about. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean for another freak of my kind to find me! Please don't be angry, I'm sorry! I can't help being a freak!" Harry yelled very loudly, taking great delight when Hagrid flinched at the repeated mentions of 'freak', 'my kind', and the 'beating'.

"Wha— Harry, lad, don't be scared—" He began before Harry slammed the door shut with a final scream.

Harry effortlessly spelled the Dursleys to shut up as Harry sank against the wall in silent laughter. The look on Hagrid's face had been priceless. However, Hagrid interrupted Harry's fun when he continued knocking.

"Harry, 'm here ter help." Hagrid said earnestly from the other side of the closed door, voice slightly muffled.

"No, please! Don't come here, Aunt and Uncle will punish me if I talk to freaks like me!" Harry pleaded convincingly from his side of the door.

Hagrid, bless his heart, made a noise of complete panic and sounded thoroughly distraught. "Yeh get punished? 'M so sorry, don't get hurt because o' me!" He said desperately. "Tell yeh what, I'll break down this door an' talk ter yeh Aunt and Uncle, how 'bout tha'?"

"Please don't break down the door! They'll be mad at me for sure then! Ow! Sorry Aunt, I'll leave the door now! Ow!" Harry shouted, conveniently interrupted by Aunt Petunia, who was pinching him.

Hagrid sounded like he was pulling out his hair. "Don' worry, Harry! I'll get help!"

Harry listened as the roaring of the motorbike faded away in the distance. He stifled his giggles. Sure, he was laying it on thick, but in his previous life he had been mercilessly abused by magic-hating muggles, and no one had lifted a hand to help him. Now, he would receive proper retribution.

'Hey, Death?' Harry called into his mental link with Death.

'Yes, Master?' Death replied.

'Can you make it so that when Hagrid calls for Dumbledore as backup, Dumbledore takes Snape with him as well?'

'Certainly. May I ask why?' Death agreed.

'Obviously, I want to have my fun with Snape. Dumbledore will be an added bonus.'

'… why did I bother asking?' Death sighed. 'It will be done.'

Harry locked himself back inside his cupboard. He didn't have to wait for long before he heard knocking again.

"Who in the blazes is it now?" Vernon bellowed. "Boy, answer the door!"

"I can't Vernon, you locked me back inside the cupboard and I can't get out!" Harry yelled back, making sure that the knockers could hear.

"Useless freak!" Vernon shouted, playing perfectly into Harry's plans. He stomped over to slap Harry's door open.

Harry strode to the front door, coming face-to-face with none other than the next victim of his mindfuckery. Quickly arranging his features into one of impassivity, Harry assumed a persona _completely_ different from the one he'd shown to Hagrid.

"How can I help you?" Harry said coldly, looking up at Snape suspiciously from behind his thick lashes.

Snape took one glance at Harry's aloof posture and sneered, probably thinking that Harry was as arrogant as he'd predicted. "Good afternoon." He said disdainfully. "I am here to—"

"Who are you?" Vernon interrupted rudely, having appeared in the living room.

"I am Professor Severus Snape from the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Snape said with slow derision.

"How dare you say those words in my house?!" Vernon bellowed. Harry could see the man turning purple at the mention of the m-word. "You freaks! I know you! You're the one who forced the boy onto our hands. Well let me tell you— he's useless! We swore to beat the freakishness out of him, and look at what happened!"

"As much as I admire your determination, I must insist that you shut your loud mouth for the moment." The voice of Snape drawled. Turning back to Harry, he resumed speaking. "Mr. Potter, you are a wizard, and you have been invited to attend Hogwarts."

Harry tilted his head to the side curiously. "Is Hogwarts the only wizarding school out there?"

Snape frowned, taken by surprise again. "No, but it is one of the best."

"Says who?" Harry inquired coolly. "In fact, how many wizarding schools are there?"

Snape opened his mouth before closing it, thinking. "Hogwarts is essentially the only wizarding school in Britain." He admitted.

Harry nodded with mock seriousness. "I see. So it's not the best because of superior instruction, but because of its monopoly on Britain's educational institutions."

Snape stared at Harry.

"Are there other schools besides Hogwarts? Surely magical children from other countries wouldn't attend Hogwarts too; that would make Hogwarts so crowded. Or are there not that many wizards and watched out there?" Harry mused.

"There are a few other main schools in foreign countries. For instance, France has Beauxbatons and Hungary has Durmstrang." Snape said finally.

"Are there any regulations stating that you can only attend a school in your home country?" Harry pressed.

Snape pondered Harry's question. "No." He said after a moment's silence.

"So why is it that I should attend Hogwarts? Couldn't I easily go to any school?" Harry drawled.

Snape looked at Harry with thinly veiled exasperation.

Harry looked right back at him with stoic amusement.

The staring contest went on for another few seconds before Harry smirked. "You're so easily irked. It's quite entertaining, really."

Snape had a rather pinched look to his sallow features. "... Potter." He said flatly.

Harry gave him an angelic smile. "Yes?"

Snape could feel a the beginnings of a migraine. "So you are attending Hogwarts, then?"

"I suppose." Harry said idly.

"Wonderful. In that case, I'll be taking you to purchase your school supplies." Snape said, his lips thinned into a line.

"No he won't be." Vernon interrupted rudely.

"Oh? Do elaborate further." Snape drawled.

"I'm not paying for the worthless boy to go to some crackpot school!" Vernon spat.

Snape's eyes flashed. "You would do well to learn common human decency. And you won't be paying."

At this point, Albus deemed it prudent to step forward and introduce himself.

"Harry, my dear boy." Albus said with a twinkle in his eye as he appeared to the side. Harry had to resist the urge to sneer at Albus's attempt at endearments.

"Albus, perhaps this is a bit too much for a boy to take in all at once." Snape said slowly.

"I understand, Severus, but I want Harry to know that we're here to help." Albus said soothingly.

Harry's gaze was unnaturally hard. "You're not here to help." He stated with an icy certainty.

"Harry?" Albus said, looking concerned. "What do you mean?"

"I remember you." He said brusquely, fingers tightening at the memory of Dumbledore dropping him off at the Dursleys.

"My boy, I don't think we've met before—"

"We have. You were the one who assisted the large man in transporting me to this miserable place. I remember how you barely glanced at me, choosing to instead only toss a note on my blanket, and leave me in the night."

Albus stumbled backwards in shock. "Harry?"

Snape looked at Harry with shock. "How do you remember this?"

"I have an excellent memory." Harry said simply.

Dumbledore gave a strained smile. "My boy, we want the best for you. That is a promise that I can keep."

"You're lying." Harry said flatly. "You're here to take me away to the asylum, aren't you? You think I'm mad! Are you a doctor here to exorcise me too? The Father at Church says I should be locked up with the rest of the loonies." Harry pointed an accusing finger, echoing Tom's words to Dumbledore decades ago.

Dumbledore's face turned ashen. "What did you say?" He said weakly.

"Did the Dursleys send you here to take me away to the hospital and the madhouse too? They always said they'd take me to St. Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys." Harry said angrily.

"No, Harry, we're wizards." Dumbledore said with an uneasy smile.

Harry glowered at Dumbledore. "I don't believe you. Did _they_ send you here to make fun of me?"

"Who's 'they'?" Dumbledore frowned.

"The teachers at my awful school. They think I'm the devil." Harry said flatly.

"And have you done anything to make them think you're one?" Dumbledore said mildly.

"No." Harry scowled. "All I did was to punish them when they misbehaved, that's all. But they still think I'm mad."

"You're not mad; you're magical and a wizard. Your mother and father were both magical, and they were very powerful." Snape reassured Harry.

"I remembered Mother and Father doing strange things back in our house." Harry said thoughtfully. "Is that magic, what I can do?"

"What is it that you can do?" Dumbledore asked, somewhat afraid of what Harry would answer. Inwardly, he was panicking and thinking of how Tom had answered the question.

"All sorts of things." Harry said with relish. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make people hurt when they've hurt me. When Dudley did Harry Hunting too much, I somehow made the glass disappear at a zoo exhibit. When the teacher thought I was cheating because I got good grades, I turned her wig blue."

"Harry Hunting?" Snape said at the same time as when Dumbledore said "Zoo exhibit?"

"Yes, that's a fun game Dudley and his friends like to play." Harry said to Snape. "And yes, zoo exhibit." Harry confirmed for Dumbledore, knowing what he was going to ask next.

"May I ask what was in the exhibit?" Dumbledore asked, his usual twinkle dimming in barely veiled trepidation.

"It was a koala exhibit." Harry lied through his teeth.

Dumbledore visibly relaxed, his shoulders slumping. Harry wasn't going to let him get away with it so easily, though.

"Mister, I can talk to snakes too, and the snakes tell me things. Is that normal?" Harry cocked his head to the side innocently, still clutching onto Snape.

Dumbledore blanched and almost collapsed before regaining his posture. "I can't say that it is a common skill, Harry." He said finally.

"Really?" Harry peered up at the man. "I think I'll keep it quiet for the moment, though. I don't think it's a very good thing, judging from your reaction."

Dumbledore instantly tried to rearrange his expression into a mask of calm. "What do you mean, my dear boy?"

Harry shot him a cold look. "Just then, your face scrunched up like Aunt and Uncle whenever I did something 'freaky'. I assume that being able to talk to snakes is something just as bad and freaky to wizards."

Dumbledore felt like his chest had been impaled by Harry's words. Was this really how he'd reacted? "I'm afraid you misunderstood, Harry." He winced. "And, that is a discussion for later. Perhaps we should get your school things first?"

"Is it all right if I go with Professor Snape instead?" Harry said innocently. He subtly took Snape's hand, taking great delight in the way Snape flinched and shuddered in disgust.

Dumbledore paused, clearly conflicted, before answering. "That would be fine, I suppose."

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

The next day after the trip to Diagon Alley, Harry stalked into Riddle Manor, irritated. He'd donned his Lord Diabolus disguise just in case, and thankfully so, since there were still Death Eaters milling around. In his annoyance, he blasted anyone in his way, clearing a path to Tom.

"Get out." He commanded the lingering Death Eaters, and they quickly scattered.

Once they were gone, Harry dropped his modifications to his Eternal Self and sprawled onto the couch by Tom, using Tom's thigh as a pillow.

"What's wrong?" Tom said, concerned.

"Dumbledore is as irksome as ever." Harry sighed.

Tom stroked Harry's side soothingly. "What else is new?" He mused.

"I'd forgotten how damned self-righteous he is. Of course, winding him up as a Tom Riddle-esque orphan was interesting, but that's about all the entertainment I got. Anyways, do you want to see my memories of the afternoon? I think you'll get a good laugh from my run-in with Hagrid and Dumbledore's expression when I pulled a creepy-child act." Harry placed his wand to his forehead, drawing out a silvery strand of his memory and storing it in a stoppered bottle.

"I think I'll enjoy it very much." Tom said with a predatory smile. "For now, I'll stay with you." Tom said, pulling Harry onto his lap.

"You're so sweet." Harry mumbled into Tom's shirt.

"I know." Tom smirked as he continued to card his long fingers through Harry's raven locks.

"You're also a stuck-up prat." Harry remarked.

"I know that too." Tom replied without missing a beat.

After a pause, Harry sat up and leaned on Tom's shoulder. "Oh, and by the way— I pretty much quoted verbatim some of your lines from your first meeting with Dumbledore all those decades ago." Harry said with a devilish grin.

"This must have been amusing. How did he react?" Tom mused.

"His face turned white quicker than a basilisk can strike. I think he would have wet himself." Harry snorted.

"Did you tell him about your Parselmouth abilities?"

"Yes— and don't give me that concerned look. Dumbledore suspected that I was a Horcrux and received some of your abilities, and he would have been more suspicious if I pretended I didn’t." Harry informed Tom. Though none of the Horcruxes were real, they were good enough fakes that Dumbledore would believe that they were the real thing. Further, Death had given Harry the lightning scar on his biological body, as well as cast a Death-enchantment to mimic the effect of a Horcrux upon Harry. Hence, Dumbledore genuinely thought that Harry housed a sliver of Voldemort's soul.

"Fine. But I had a right to be worried." Tom insisted.

"You won't be as worried as Dumbledore is." Harry said with vindictive pleasure. "He and Snape definitely know I'm not just another naïve child."

"I imagine that your little performance worked well, then." Tom said.

"Essentially. They both looked very stressed and exhausted by the end of the trip." Harry shrugged.

Tom eyed Harry critically. "You look pretty tired too. Go to bed."

Harry crossed his arms petulantly. "Will you join me?"

"Later." Tom promised Harry, apparating into their bedroom and depositing Harry onto his side of the bed.

Harry grumbled a little before allowing himself to curl up and sink into the soft mattress, sleep claiming him quickly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed the scene where Death walked in on Harry and Tom doing the kissy-kissy. That, plus the scene of Harry's visit from Hagrid/Snape/Dumbledore made this chapter very amusing to write.
> 
> Unrelated, but creating drafts on ao3 is THE most DANGEROUS thing out there since it's super easy to accidentally post a chapter. Because I've been running on 3.5 hours of sleep per night for the past three months, I'm objectively sleep-deprived. Consequently, in my exhausted state I've almost unintentionally posted chapters when I meant to save them instead.
> 
> Kudos and comments are very much appreciated! Also, I reply to comments :)
> 
> -Luxis


	7. --Life #7--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's another mini-chapter of one of their previous lives!
> 
>  **Just a quick clarification** \-- there are currently six lives of Tom/Harry's that I will be featuring in these mini chapters (we've covered four so far, including this chapter). Once I finish introducing those rebirths, I'll **cycle through** the six reincarnations and **revist** them with each half-chapter. So, never fear! These chapters are short, but that's because I'll add new chapters about each life as we go!
> 
> (shoutout to Vanessa_Croyt, who wrote a fanfic of Eternal Hilarity! It's called a Reborn Harry's Introduction to the Wizarding World)

**Life #7 Case file:**

**Who:**

Tom is Raphael Bauffremont

Harry is Emilie Chaunte

**What:**

They're both Beauxbatons students

**When:**

Both are born in 2002

**Where:**

Magical France

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

_"I think your mental health was in a questionable state long before now. Do you recall what you did in your seventh life?" Tom smirked. "Even though you, being a saucy little Frenchwoman, didn't want anything to do with me until we were eighteen, I do recall a certain someone having explicit daydreams about me anyways."_

 ~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

Harry grinned. He'd always loved the lull and murmur of the French language, and it was a treat to be reborn as a Frenchman. _Or_ , he thought as he glanced at his chest, _as a Frenchwoman_. It would also be his first time being reborn as a female, and he was a little apprehensive at the thought. 

There were some things that weren't new, though. For instance, Madame Maxime was still alive and kicking even in 2014. She and Hagrid hadn't become a couple either, and the interesting thing about this alternate universe was that Harry Potter still existed. It had been weird for Harry to see his alternate-universe self, but it didn't matter since Death assured him that he and AU-Potter remained completely separate entities. Harry didn't even want to think about the technicalities of that statement, and decided to leave those complexities up to Death to figure out.

Now a twelve-year old girl by the name of Emilie Chaunte, Harry looked forward to spending some time apart from Tom. They'd agreed to minimize their time together until they were seventeen, since they'd been constantly at each other's side for almost a couple hundred years; it was nothing personal, but merely a way for them to experiment with their boon of innumerable rebirths without being bogged down by romantic ties that both parties still hadn't fully acclimated to.

It was the first day of Harry's second year at Beauxbatons, and he was happily talking with his best friend Charlotte Laval as they awaited the Welcome Feast to begin. As usual, Maxime went through the boring start-of-year welcome address. Harry was starting to drift away when he realized with a start that there were several things off.

One, Maxime was still speaking even though she'd finished the Welcome Address.

Two, she was now saying something about 'welcoming a new pupil who'd just transferred here'.

Three, she pulled a tall, handsome, boy out from behind her and pushed him into full view of the hall.

Four, upon sensing the boy, Harry recognized the unmistakable pull of his soul bond as he felt the crest and ebb of _yearning_ and _completion._

 

_Why, that little…!_

 

Harry glowered at Tom, who was now being introduced by Madam Maxime as Raphael Bauffremont. Tom's hazel eyes met his and he had the nerve to _smirk_ at Harry.

Throughout the entire feast, Harry routinely glared up at Tom, who sat at the opposite end of the second year table. The moment they were dismissed, Harry cornered Tom in an empty hallway and crossed his arms irritably.

"Why did you transfer here?" Harry demanded immediately.

Tom only graced Harry with a lazy smile. "Why, Harry, you look positively beautiful even as a female. I ought to thank Death for fashioning such a lovely figure for your reborn self."

Harry glowered at him. "Answer the question already."

"So hostile, beloved. Are you upset with me?" Tom drawled.

" 'Am I upset'—! Of course I am, you twat! I thought we agreed to being separated until we're seventeen!" Harry exclaimed.

"Ah, that? I suppose we did have an agreement." Tom said nonchalantly.

Harry looked ready to tear his hair out. "Tom— no, Raphael! You can't just break promises like that." Harry said frustratedly.

Unmoved, Tom only smiled idly. "I can't? Odd. I seem to be standing right here, contrary to what you're insisting."

"You're being insufferable, you know that, right?" Harry snapped.

"Of course I do." said Tom.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "It's funny, really, that you would go to such great lengths to be around me. Fallen victim to separation anxiety already?"

Tom chuckled dryly at this. "You're my soulmate; separation anxiety doesn't apply to us." He pointed out.

Harry rolled his eyes. "What is it, then? Do you find it impossible to live without me in your life?" He said sarcastically.

"No, not really." Tom said offhandedly. "I simply enjoy seeing the expressions you make when you're annoyed."

Harry colored in indignation. "I don't make expressions when I'm annoye—"

"You're making one right now." Tom said, leaning closer with a damnable smile on that smug bastard's face. "In fact, I think it's rather cute."

Harry's jaw floundered. "Wha— Tom!" He spluttered.

"It's Raphael to you, not 'Tom'." Harry's soulmate said, evidently reveling in Harry's flustered state. "Anyhow, _Mademoiselle Emilie_ , I must be going."

Harry stared at Tom's retreating figure, torn between wanting to hex or interrogate his soulmate about the 'cute expression' remark. Instead, Harry mentally groaned as he carded his hands through his hair and slid down against the wall.

Tom was going to be the end of him.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

"I can't believe the nerve of that fool." Harry complained to his best friend and dormmate, Charlotte. It had been over a year since Tom transferred to Beauxbatons, but it seemed that Tom would never cease to get on Harry's nerves.

Charlotte facepalmed. "Here we go. Let me guess— is it Raphael again?" Charlotte said in exasperation.

"Who else could it be? He was the one that made me so pissed off just hours ago." Harry scowled.

"Emilie, Raphael is a perfectly fine person." Charlotte sighed.

"No he isn't." Harry said shortly.

"The majority of females in our grade would say otherwise." Charlotte commented.

"What do you mean by that?" Harry frowned.

"He's damn fine-looking." Charlotte remarked. "Also, he's incredibly smart, and the only person that can come close to him in academics is you."

Harry stared incredulously at her. "That's it? He's good-looking and somewhat intelligent, and suddenly all of third-year Beauxbatons is in love with him?"

"You know, a lot of guys like _you_ since you're 'good-looking and somewhat intelligent'. Why can't girls like Raphael for the same reason?" Charlotte rationalized.

"There are guys that like me?" Harry said, unaware of this fact.

"Merlin, Emilie." Charlotte huffed. "You're literally one of the most popular girls in the grade. How can you be so smart yet oblivious?"

"Well, excuse me for not paying attention to horny, teenaged males—"

"What's this about horny teenagers?" Edmond's arrogant voice said from behind them.

"Oh joy, the prat's here." Harry muttered under his breath as Edmond's swaggered steps drew closer.

"Hello to you too, Miss Cranky." Edmond cheerfully replied, slinging an arm around Charlotte's shoulders as he sat beside them.

"What are you doing here?" Harry demanded.

"Only saying hello to my gorgeous girlfriend." Edmond answered, leaning down to kiss Charlotte.

Harry made a face. "Ew. Do that somewhere else."

Edmond shot a cocky grin at Harry. "Why, don't like the reminder that your love life is nonexistent?"

"No," Harry said, affronted. "It's because wherever you go, Raphael's usually somewhere nearby." It was true, since Raphael and Edmond were close friends, and they generally were in each other's vicinities.

"What's up with you and Raphael?" Edmond scoffed. "You two avoid each other like the plague, and get on like a _lumos_ to a _nox_."

"He's so annoying, and he's always… _there._ Everywhere I look, I see some reminder of Raphael's existence staring back at me; it could be anything, such as his books, favorite professors, friends, or Merlin forbid, sometimes even Raphael himself standing there." Harry said crossly.

"You know who his favorite professors are and which books he likes?" Edmond jibed 

"Well, it's not like it takes a genius to figure those out." Harry said defensively.

Charlotte and Edmond exchanged looks. "If you manage to connect even _books_ to Raphael, then chances are that you feel something towards him other than animosity." Edmond snorted. "Don't tell me— have you actually got a crush on Raphael or something?"

Harry's jaw dropped. "Wha— I don't dabble in something as _juvenile_ as crushes!" He said immediately.

Edmond grinned slowly. "You sure about that? Because the blush on your cheeks says otherwise."

Harry gritted his teeth. "Shut it, Edmond."

"What a witty comeback." Raphael says dryly, having just arrived at the table.

Harry groaned. "Circe. Another one appears. I can't handle this right now."

"Why, has your tetchy temper gotten inflamed?" Tom snarked.

Harry whirled around to glare at Tom. "Maybe if you didn't spend all day riling me up—"

"It's entertaining, I must admit." Tom smiled.

"You're awful." Harry glared at him.

"Really? That doesn't seem to be the general public's consensus regarding my character, though." Tom said smugly.

"The general public's a fool, then." Harry retorted before storming out of the hall. It was only when he'd reached the dorms that he realized that he'd overreacted somewhat just then. He and Tom's fates were intertwined, yes, but this was only their seventh life and it had taken ages for them to even _acknowledge_ that they were soulmates. It was only in their third life that they'd gotten romantically involved, and in total they'd been 'together' for only two lives. Consequently, he wasn't quite at ease with Tom yet and his reaction was perhaps even justifiably irate. 

Alone in his sleeping quarters, Harry sighed and allowed himself to lean tiredly against the wall. This soulmate business was  _confusing_ , and he didn't know how to deal with it half the time. Even still, Harry refused to be shaken. After a moment's deliberation, Harry decided to put the matter aside and he meandered towards the loo for a freshener. He was unbuttoning his skirt when he saw it.

" _Holy FUCK!"_ He screamed, all dignity forgotten. At that moment, Charlotte burst into the dorm, having followed Harry out of the hall. She heard that latter half of Harry's expletive, and immediately rushed towards the bathroom.

There, standing dead center before the toilet, was a very shell-shocked Harry. He was clutching at his skirt in horror, staring comically wide-eyed at the red stain lining his panties. It took Charlotte one look to assess the situation, and she promptly burst into laughter at the sight of Harry's confused and terrified expression.

"So _that's_ why you've been so cranky lately." She wheezed between laughs.

Harry glowered at Charlotte. "I had no idea this was coming! Because what in the everloving _fuck_ is this unpleasant— _oh, stop laughing_ — this unpleasant business?!"

Charlotte's chuckles had subsided somewhat, and she shook her head in amusement as she handed a few sanitary pads to Harry. The next few minutes were very uncomfortable as Harry figured out how to put on the damned thing.

"Er… I'll leave you alone then? We haven't got any classes left today, so feel free to rest." Charlotte offered.

Harry nodded mutely, still trying to process what happened.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

Harry was curled up in his bed the next morning. It was mercifully a Saturday, and the dorms were blessedly empty of other students. Alone in his much-needed respite, Harry sighed as he debated whether he should get up or not. Technically, nothing hurt much, but it was just such an alien experience that he didn't really want to deal with anything else at the moment. Moping around was more preferable, and he was perfectly fine with remaining huddled up in his blankets for the rest of the day.

He was about to close his eyes and return to sleep when he heard a hesitant knock on the other side of his dorm's entrance.

"Come in." He mumbled, rolling over to face the door.

To his surprise, it was none other than Tom standing there. "Hello, Harry." Tom said calmly.

Harry sighed and motioned for Tom to come in. Once Tom situated himself at the chair beside Harry's bed, Harry spoke again. "Well? What do you want?" He said bluntly.

"I… ah, I heard from Charlotte about your recent predicament."

"Predicament?" Harry echoed.

Tom gestured towards Harry's midriff. "Yes, that."

Harry almost laughed at Tom, who looked like he was on the verge of running out the room. "My period, you mean? Yeah, it came as a shock to me too, first time being reborn as a female and all that."

Tom relaxed a little at Harry's casual tone. "This is new to me too. And, I noticed that you weren't at breakfast."

Harry shrugged. "I woke up late. It's probably the shock of it all."

"Understandable, given the oddness of this situation for both of us. But, you should remain well-rested and well-fed. It minimizes chances of cramping." Tom said factually.

Harry raised a single brow. "Don't tell me that the scary Dark Lord is concerned for me and my period."

"I was a Dark Lord six lifetimes ago, so it's hardly relevant." Said Tom. "Also, I brought you something to make it a little better."

Tom pulled out several bars of high-quality dark chocolate and a large bottle of Harry's favorite butterbeer. Harry took one look at the offerings and Tom's expression and smiled.

"You know, your groveling attempts aren't half-bad." Harry said, sampling the chocolate.

"How kind of you to say so." Tom said with a straight face.

"I know. I'm obviously too good for you." Harry said jokingly.

"I feel inclined to think that it would be the other way around."

"Oh, shut it with the prideful aloofness." Harry scoffed, pulling Tom towards him with outstretched arms. Embracing his soulmate for the first time in this life, Harry breathed in the scent of Tom and eased in contentment as Tom's magic washed over him.

"What brought this latest hugging-session on?" Tom said amusedly after a few minutes.

"It's all your fault." Harry mumbled into Tom's shirt. "You're my darling little prat, and it's weird seeing you so nice."

Tom stiffened slightly. "If it makes you uncomfortable—"

"For Circe's sake." Harry snapped, pulling away to glare at Tom. "I was joking. You're perfect either way, and I rather like nice-Tom." To punctuate his statement, Harry took a bite of the chocolate.

Tom seemed to regain some of his usual demeanor. "I'm glad to hear that you've finally come to realize that I am a paragon of excellence."

"Paragon of pompousness, more like." Harry said with a grudgingly fond smile. "Now shut up and lie down with me."

Tom gracefully obliged. "Aren't you worried that one of your roommates will walk in on us?"

"Doesn't matter." Harry said, his voice muffled by the blanket. "I like being with you, however annoying you may be."

"You like being with me, hm? Interesting. What happened to your determination that we would have minimal contact until we're seventeen?" Tom smirked.

"Quiet, before I kick you out of the room." Harry scolded.

"Whatever you say, beloved." Tom smiled.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

The next day, they were back to their usual bickering selves. They'd decided to remain constantly at odds since it "heightened the sexual tension", as Tom had informed Harry in a deadpan.

"—and if you maybe _thought_ before you acted, you would have realized that cutting curses and deflection hexes don't mix well!" Harry said irritably.

"You're accusing me of being impetuous? How rich, coming from you. Don't think that we've forgotten your ridiculous Wronski Feint the other day that almost earned you a trip to the hospital wing." Tom countered.

"The Feint at least got me the Snitch and won the game! You, on the other hand, stupidly decided to have fun in dueling for no good reason and almost hurt yourself." Harry scowled.

"My dueling decisions were carefully pre-calculated." Tom said without hesitation. "It was to test the magic-enhancement reaction between spells."

"Well, if your dueling partner had been anyone other than me, they probably wouldn't have been able to put up a shielding charm in time to deflect any of the magic-enhancement reaction!"

"But, the fact remains that you _were_ my dueling partner, and therefore my actions were fairly reasonable and of an appropriate difficulty level." Tom said indifferently.

"Why, you little—" Harry began hotly before letting out a tiny squeak as Tom pushed him against the wall.

With a lazy flick of his wand, Tom righted Harry's tie and skirt.

"Hey! What was that for?" Harry demanded.

"Your appearance is always so haphazard. It's an unwelcome aberration that frankly offends my sensibilities." Tom said disdainfully.

"Wha—"

"Let me put it in simpler terms." Tom rolled his eyes. "Your scruffy look needs to be corrected. So, I did you a favor and fixed it."

"Why on Merlin's name would you care about how I look?" Harry said, baffled.

"Because you're unfortunately in my field of vision fairly often, and I can't have you marring the scenery all the time. Good day, Mademoiselle Emilie." Tom said coolly as he turned to leave.

The moment Tom was out of earshot, Charlotte rounded on Harry. "What was that?" She said immediately.

"You think I'm not asking that myself right now?" Harry said in a strangled voice.

"It's just that… the way he looked at you was different than usual just now." She said in a fascinated voice.

"Tell me about it." Harry grumbled.

Charlotte gave Harry a piercing look. "Do you have a thing with Raphael?"

Harry vehemently shook his head. "Of course not. Raphael's just being a prick as usual."

"Hmm." She said, unconvinced. "Forgive me for not believing you. Anyways, make sure you make me your bridesmaid at your wedding with him when it happens."

Harry gaped at her. "The audacity—! Raphael is just a classmate!" He exclaimed.

Laughing, Charlotte ran as Harry chased furiously after her. "Keep telling yourself that!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Tom and Harry are only on their 7th life, they haven't gotten super close yet. In fact, they've only ended up romantically involved in two of their seven lives so far. 
> 
> As a result, Harry hasn't 100% committed to the idea of them being together in this life as well, and they still have a little awkwardness every now and then. So, half of his scandalized-Emilie-act is real, and half of it is just him and Tom 'heightening the sexual tension' (wise words from Tom, remember?).
> 
> -Luxis 
> 
> Edit: **Hi! I just made a tumblr account. Feel free to check it out **[here](https://tired-luxis.tumblr.com/)**. Lots of love!**


	8. Start of Hogwarts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Recap of the previous main-chapter** :  
> Harry and Tom gradually strengthened their forces over the years as they awaited Harry's eleventh birthday. When the time finally came, Harry received his Hogwarts visit. He put on his "innocent, abused, cowed" act for Hagrid, but when Snape and Dumbledore visited, Harry conversely did a full-on Tom Riddle impression. Dumbledore, who had suspected that Harry was a Horcrux, was told by Harry himself during their conversation that he was indeed a Parselmouth. In reality, however, Tom only made fake Horcruxes this time around, so the joke's on Dumbledore.
> 
> According to the once-every-two-weeks update schedule, the next chapter will be posted on 12/8! [Unrelated, but guess who's now of legal age to drive? This galllll]

Harry spent the next few weeks making the most of his remaining time at Riddle Manor before Hogwarts. Between Tom's Wizengamot meetings and their joint Death Eater gatherings, Harry was irritated to find that the days were slipping away quickly. However, Harry made the most of what free time he had with Tom left, the two of them enjoying activities together like dueling, scholarly debates, quiet reading, and playful romping. On the night before he was to leave for the Hogwarts Express, Harry fell asleep early, dreaming about Tom, treacle tart, and books.

Anyhow, when it was time to leave for the first day of Hogwarts, Harry was held back by Tom. That clingy, adorable Dark Lord insisted that Harry visit him during the Hogwarts term. In the end, Harry agreed to continue moonlighting as Lord Diabolus on his off-time every now and then, and he would contact Tom over their mindlink often. 

He had Death to thank for that, actually. Ever since Death had made Harry a fake Horcrux, Harry and Tom had a mindlink that mimicked the effects of him being an actual Horcrux. In essence, they could have telepathic conversations, enter each other's mindscapes, see what the other was seeing, and even possess each other. The mindlink would prove to be useful when Harry was in Hogwarts, separated from Tom by thousands of kilometers.

"I'll talk to you over the link tonight." Tom said as he embraced Harry.

"Is the big, bad Lord Voldemort turning soft?" Harry teased.

"Only for you." Tom scoffed, kissing Harry hard on the lips.

"You know, you're such a great kisser that I might write to you daily instead of every other day." Harry grinned.

"Good." Tom leaned down to press his forehead against Harry's. "Make sure you keep me updated on whatever you're up to, especially if it's amusing."

"I'm offended that you think I wouldn't tell you all about it." Harry sniffed. "Can't have my fellow Dark Lord getting killed by boredom from Wizengamot and idiot Death Eaters, can I?"

"No, you can't." Tom kissed Harry again, this time gentler. "All right, you should probably get going now."

Harry smiled a little. "Love you, darling."

"Love you too, beloved."

~~~~~_______~~~~~_______~~~~~

Harry noted that most of the train's compartments were already full. He kept his eyes open for a certain bushy-haired girl and a shy boy. To the corner of his eye, he saw exactly who he was looking for. Sliding open the compartment door, Harry donned his most charming grin.

"Hi there, could I sit here?" Harry said cheerfully.

"S-sure." Neville said, his round face showing that he was a little nervous.

"Why here?" Hermione inquired, as sharp as ever.

Harry shrugged as he sat down in a single, fluid motion. "I don't know anyone since I'm new to the wizarding world, and I didn't get time to talk to anyone, so I'm effectively alone. Plus, you two looked nice." Harry said honestly.

"Are you a muggle-born too?" Hermione asked.

"Half-blood, but raised in the muggle world." Harry corrected. “They sent a teacher and everything to explain magic and Diagon Alley.” Technically, he wasn't lying. "Also, I kind of terrorized the poor teacher who had to get me."

Neville laughed. His timid smile turned genuine when he saw what Harry was reading. "One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi! I thought that was a fascinating read." Neville said shyly.

"Which plant do you think is the coolest out of the ones mentioned in it?" Harry prompted Neville.

"Definitely the wiggentree or shrivelfig." Neville said eagerly.

The conversation went something like this for a good hour or so. When Harry felt that he'd established a friendship with Hermione and Neville, he gently steered the topic of discussion towards the Sorting. Now was his opportunity to counter some of Hermione and Neville's preconceptions about the Houses and hopefully prevent them from falling into Dumbledore and Gryffindor worship.

"Have you thought about which House you'll be in? I, for one, feel like I could be in any of them." Harry said offhandedly.

"Even Slytherin?" Neville asked, alarmed.

"Of course." Harry said shortly. When he saw their hesitation, he sighed. "Don't tell me you buy the whole 'all Slytherins are evil' rubbish."

"But, there are a lot of Dark wizards who got into Slytherin." Hermione said uncertainly.

"Okay, first of all, Slytherin is defined as being cunning and ambitious, not by a single magic affiliation. Second of all, your magical affiliation has _almost nothing_ to do with your morals, temperament, or character." Harry huffed.

"Wasn't Lord Voldemort a Dark wizard and a Slytherin though?" Hermione pushed.

"If you're going to judge an entire house by one person, how about we mention the 1600s Dark Lord from Gryffindor who terrorized half of Britain? Or the murderous Countess of Tabithy from Hufflepuff back in the 1820s? Or the Ravenclaw Minister of Magic from 1870-1883 who advocated for the eradication of all goblins?" Actually, it was Harry who had been the 1600s 'Gryffindor Dark Lord' back in life #31, but he didn't feel the need to mention that.

Hermione's eyes widened. "I didn't know about those." She said finally.

"The victors write history. Naturally, we want to paint the bad guys as purely being Dark wizards from the house of the snakes, considering the most recent wizarding war. But I've honestly got nothing against being ambitious." Harry shrugged.

"I am rather ambitious." Hermione admitted. "Though, I don't know if that's my biggest trait."

"I think you'd make a great Ravenclaw." Harry stated after surveying her. "From what I can tell, you're a bright student with a thirst for knowledge, and you seem to genuinely enjoy learning."

"Yeah, you would be a good Ravenclaw." Neville said. "I'm probably just going to be a Hufflepuff, though. Gran says I have to be in Gryffindor, but I know it's not going to happen." He sighed.

"There's nothing wrong with being a 'Puff." Harry said sharply. "And who knows— you've probably got a Gryffindor streak within you. No matter what House you're in, you'll still have the capacity to succeed." Harry reassured him.

"You have a very pragmatic outlook." Hermione remarked.

"I am much more… jaded than most." Harry agreed. "I'm also quite the madman."

Hermione laughed. "I don't doubt it."

"What gave it away?" Harry said in false disappointment. "Was it the mad glint in my eye? Volatile mood? Or something else?"

"Nah, you just give off the vibe." Neville said, only half-joking and looking marginally more cheerful.

"Good. I was starting to think that I'd lost my touch." Harry said with mock relief.

They sat in content quiet, each to their own thoughts, when Neville abruptly interrupted the silence with a dismayed wail. "Oh no!" Neville cried. "Trevor's gone."

"Trevor?" Hermione echoed, puzzled.

"My pet toad." Neville said miserably.

"Don't worry. _Accio Trevor_." Harry said calmly, utilizing his Seeker reflexes to catch the toad.

"How did you do that?" Hermione said eagerly. "That's a fourth year summoning spell."

Harry waggled his eyebrows. "I'm advanced."

"Thank you." Neville said with a smile. "I just realized— I never got your name. I'm Neville, and that's Hermione."

"I enjoyed sharing a compartment with you, Neville and Hermione." Harry said with a smile. "I'm Harry Potter."

"You are? Did you know that you're mentioned in—"

"—The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts?" Harry finished Hermione's sentence. "Yes, I do know." He smiled in amusement. Hermione looked as though she was itching to ask more questions, but a raised brow from Harry halted her.

Just then, the door slid open. It was the Trolley Witch, providing a perfect distraction. Harry cheerfully bought several Cauldron Cakes, licorice wands, and chocolate frogs. They shared the sweets, Harry sighing when he realized that he got Agrippa on his chocolate frog card again.

A sudden thought struck Harry and he jumped to his feet. He'd forgotten to visit Malfoy! Mumbling an excuse over his shoulder, he exited the compartment and headed down the hallway. Knowing that the Slytherins usually sat towards the back of the train, he walked in that direction. Harry saw a flash of trademark Malfoy blonde hair to his left and smiled when he noticed that the boy had put up some rudimentary locking, silencing, and anti-eavesdropping charms on the door. Undoing the spells without even taking out his wand, Harry opened the compartment door and stepped inside.

"What are you doing here?" A girl that Harry recognized as Pansy Parkinson snapped.

"My apologies, Miss Parkinson." Harry said smoothly, dipping his head in a polite bow. "I only wished to make my proper introductions."

"You barged into our compartment." Blaise stated.

"Ah, but it would have been truly difficult to have a conversation through a glass door, especially one with silencing spells on it." Harry raised a single brow in amusement.

"You broke through those? Father himself taught me how to cast them." Draco said with a mix of haughtiness and curiosity.

"They were well-cast for a first year, and for that I congratulate you, Heir Malfoy." Harry nodded. "However, I would recommend you place a localized locking ward next time. Much more effective."

"How do you know all this?" Draco demanded.

Harry winked. "I know many things."

A blonde girl who looked to be Draco's counterpart in elegance was eyeing Harry with curiosity. "It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Daphne Greengrass, Heiress to the Greengrass house."

Harry brushed his lips over her hand. "And I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Heiress Greengrass. I am Harry Potter, Heir Potter and Heir Black." He said smoothly, smirking at their stunned expressions. Technically, he was Lord of Potter and Peverell houses, and Heir Black, but they didn't need to know that.

"Harry Potter? But you're nothing like what I've heard about you." Pansy blurted.

"Miss Parkinson, surely you would know that what is published is not necessarily factually correct." Harry said coolly.

"But surely you'd be adverse to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his House." Draco frowned.

Harry grinned ferally. "Quite the contrary. I admire the Dark Lord, and I am fairly certain that I will either end up in Ravenclaw or Slytherin."

Draco's pureblood mask slipped in his shock. "Did you just call him the 'Dark Lord'?"

"Yes. Is that so surprising?" Harry said indifferently. "He _is_ a Dark Lord and there is no use calling him anything else."

Draco scrutinized Harry closely. "You are rather unexpected."

"That I am." Harry said with a cocky grin.

"In that case, I am Draco Malfoy, Heir to the Malfoy house."

"I would be most honored to be your ally, Heir Malfoy." Harry said with a nod, as pureblood customs dictated.

The rest of the Slytherins went around the compartment and introduced themselves. When finished, there a moment of silence as everyone in the compartment surveyed Harry. Harry smirked back at them. "Now that we're done with the formal niceities, is it all right if we call each other by our first names? And relax a little?"

Draco looked taken aback again. "I suppose so." He accepted on behalf of his companions.

Harry relaxed his posture slightly. "Good. Because I really dislike acting like I've got a stick up my arse." He said with a mad gleam in his eye, dropping his stuffy Heir façade.

Pansy let out a little gasp before giggling quietly.

"At least you have the candor to say it." Blaise grumbled. He, too, found the constant formalities tiring.

Draco looked uncertainly between his friends, unsure if he should be offended or relax instead.

Harry sighed. "Draco, I can almost hear the gears whirring in your pretty little blond head. Just go with the flow. You're a Malfoy; surely being casual every now and then wouldn't dent your reputation." Harry had the perfect balance of casual banter and pandering to Malfoy's pride, putting Draco at ease.

"You're ridiculous, Harry." Draco rolled his eyes.

"Rolling your eyes! How plebian!" Harry said, covering his mouth with a hand, pretending to be scandalized.

Even Daphne smiled reluctantly.

The rest of the ride was quite enjoyable, the Slytherins settling into Harry's comfortable pace. With half an hour left before they arrived at Hogwarts, Harry slipped away to return to Hermione and Neville.

"Where were you?" Hermione asked.

"I was talking with some other first years— Draco, Blaise, Daphne, and Pansy." Harry listed off.

"Draco Malfoy?" Neville said worriedly.

"He's actually quite nice once you get past his pompous exterior." Harry said nonchalantly. "He's wound up so tight that when you get him to uncoil, he's like a completely different person."

Hermione laughed a little at that.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

Inside the Great Hall, Harry sighed a little in nostalgia. Though he'd spent a good thousand years' lifetimes that involved Hogwarts, nothing quite matched the amazement he'd felt when he first saw the school of magic. She was a beautiful, ancient castle, and Harry did think of her as his home even after all this time.

One by one, the first years were soon called up to the stool and sorted. Everyone went to the same houses that they had in Harry's first life, save for Hermione. This time, instead of sitting under the hat for slightly longer than the rest, she was sorted quickly and almost immediately placed into Ravenclaw. Harry suspected that his little talk with her on the train had convinced her to not force the Hat to put her in Gryffindor, unlike what she'd done in his first life.

As McGonagall worked her way down the list of students, she eventually reached "Patil, Parvati", and Harry knew that he was up next.

"POTTER, HARRY!"

Harry mentally sighed as the Hall burst into excited whispers.

"Did the hat just say—"

" _The_ Harry Potter?"

"Merlin, he's cute."

"Do you think he'll talk to us?"

"I've always wanted to meet a celebrity."

Harry stood, head held high and his gait poised. If anything, his elegant air was to spite the curious observers and the watchful gaze of the Headmaster.

He gracefully alighted at the edge of stool and placed the aged hat on his head.

_'Well, well, well... Isn't this a surprise. I didn't think that the Master of Death would return to his first life.'_

_'Hello Alistair.'_ Harry thought back to the hat. _'It's good to see you again, my wizened, mildew-bedridden, old friend.'_

 _'Don't sass me, young man.'_ Alistair scolded.

_'I'm older than you several times over. You're barely over a thousand years old, so don't get too proud.'_

_'You're just an old crone.'_ Alistair harrumphed.

 _'And you're a battered sorting hat that isn't doing its job.'_ Harry shot back with a smirk. _'Are you going to Sort me or what?'_

_'Fine. If we must get to Sorting, I suppose I'll allow you to give your input.'_

_'How kind of you. Since you asked, I'll tell you. The things is, I don't really want my Sorting to make Dumbledore any more wary of me than he already is. He gets so bloody_ annoying _when he's cautious.'_

_'He'll be suspicious no matter what. I can sense him staring at you right now. You have been sitting here for some while.'_

_'What, is he looking at me with his usual distrust?'_ Harry snickered.

 _'Actually, he looks ready to rip you from the stool himself and drag you to the Aurors.'_ Alistair said casually.

Harry snorted at this, eventually devolving into peals of laughter. _'That was a good one, Alistair. You weren't this funny last time we met.'_

_'I'm touched. But, we must wrap this up soon. So, which house would you like to be in?'_

Harry thought for a moment. _'Even though Slytherins make a passable group of friends, I've already formed an alliance with them on the train so there's not much to be gained. Gryffindor would be too annoying, and I'll have Neville to network there. Hufflepuff would be too out-of-character, so that leaves one option.'_

_'All right then. Better be—'_

"RAVENCLAW!"

Harry cast the hat aside and walked over to sit by Hermione. Once the feast started, the Ravenclaws promptly unleashed a flood of questions. Harry ignored them, calmly using his knife to cut his steak. When they continued to bombard him with questions, Harry only shot them a cool look. Finally when he was finished eating, he put down his knife and raised his hand for silence, and they quickly hushed.

"While it is a Ravenclaw trait to be curious, that does not excuse your rude behavior." Harry scolded his fellow Ravenclaws, who looked properly abashed. He smirked a little at their chastised selves. "However, because I too am a Ravenclaw, I will answer your questions now. Well! Let's get this over with." He crossed his legs and leaned forward.

There was positively a babel when they all started speaking at once.

"Hey! One at a time." Harry said irritably.

"How did you defeat Voldemort?" A fifth year said in a rushed manner.

Harry chuckled at this. "Are you sure I defeated him?"

"Of course you did. He disappeared after he tried to kill you." The girl frowned.

"I'm disappointed." Harry tutted. "Here I was, thinking that Ravenclaw was the house of the intelligent. Yet, I am presented with a hasty conclusion derived from shoddy and distinctly scant evidence. Somehow, vanishing equates being vanquished."

"Are you saying that he's not gone?" Another girl said in a hushed tone.

Harry only shrugged his shoulders. "You're a Ravenclaw. Figure it out for yourself."

"Can I see your scar?" A first year boy blurted eagerly.

Harry only smiled deviously at him. "Whatever for?"

The boy was taken aback. "It's famous, I guess." He said uncomfortably.

Harry hummed. "I could carve a similar one in your forehead, if you'd like." He said with a wicked grin. He paused as the boy stared at him in terror and shock for one… two... three seconds…

And Harry laughed. It was a borderline cackle, startling those in his vicinity.

"Sorry," Harry smiled between chuckles. "That was so funny. I just had to try that."

The boy jaw hung open and he colored.

"Harry, be nice." Hermione chided.

"I am being nice." Harry sniffed. "I just like having a bit of fun."

"Don't do it at the expense of your Housemates' sanity." She scolded. "Just because you're a self-proclaimed madman doesn't mean you have to drive others into becoming one too."

"I'm a perfectly lovely young man, thank you very much." Harry said with a mock dignified air.

"…right."

Harry gasped in false indignation and placed a hand to his bare neck in a delicate fashion, just like the pureblood matriarchs would. "You wound me, Miss Granger."

The Ravenclaws were watching Harry with growing confusion. They were completely perplexed by his odd behavior; he was devious, aloof, playful, cutting, and probably insane. His alternating teasing and sarcastic comments were headachingly difficult to keep track of. Harry watched their puzzlement with glee, delighted that he'd made quite the impression on them.

Harry glanced up at the Slytherin table, which was the closest to Ravenclaw's. He smiled and waved at them, and Draco looked like he was fighting back a smile when he nodded back. Blaise looked at Harry and subtly pointed to the teacher's table, coughing into his fist to mask the motion. Harry followed Blaise's line of sight to see Dumbledore looking thoughtful and concerned, his twinkle dimmed. Evidently, Blaise had noticed Dumbledore's discomfort.

Harry smirked at the Headmaster's troubled expression. Poor Dumbledore's Light Savior wasn't in Gryffindor, and was a massive hatstall. Harry privately wondered if Dumbledore suspected that Harry was doing something like planning world domination while sitting on the stool and talking with the Hat.

As Harry's gaze roamed, his eyebrows shot up in surprise when he saw that Quirrel was still here. Interesting. He'd always thought that Quirrel was only here on Voldemort's orders. He looked to be slightly less timid than before, which would be an improvement. Quirrel's faked stutter from before was so irritating. Now, would Quirrel still steal the Stone? Harry shrugged, knowing that he would be prepared even if Quirrel did.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

The Ravenclaw common room was very spacious and neatly organized. At the center was a billboard for house notices, and the rest of the common room space was taken up by oaken desks and tall chairs. To the left was a fireplace, which was surrounded by large, plush cushions and armchairs.

Harry skipped up the stairs to his dorm, reveling in the soothing dark blue and silver décor of the room. He shared a dorm with Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner, and Terry Boot.

"Are you going to sleep already?" Michael asked incredulously at Harry, who was pulling on his pajamas.

Harry only smirked. "You know what they say— madmen need a full night's rest to put their madness at the test."

"I've literally never heard anyone say that." Michael frowned, evidently not picking up on Harry's sarcasm.

"They also say that those with the name starting with 'm' and ending with '-ichael' may not be the brightest lumos of the bunch." Harry said cheerily, fluffing his pillows. Anthony snorted under his breath from the bed across from Harry's.

"M-… -ichael. Michael. Hey!" Michael said, comprehension dawning slowly on his features.

"And they call us the intelligent house." Harry snorted, rolling his eyes. At this, Anthony chuckled while Michael looked increasingly furious.

Without bothering to look back, Harry ducked into his bed, spelled the curtains shut and placed a strong silencing ward around his bed. He mentally called for Tom and awaited a response. Almost instantly, he felt Tom's presence enter his mind.

'Hey there, darling.' Harry grinned. 'Guess what happened today?'

'Knowing you, a lot.'

Harry smiled. 'Yup. On the train ride here, I think I made quite the impression on Hermione, Neville, Draco, Blaise, and Pansy.' He listed off.

'Does their 'impression' include a combination of amusement and worry for your sanity?' Tom deadpanned.

'…maybe.'

'Oh Circe. Please tell me that you went easy on them.' Tom sighed.

'I did.' Harry said indignantly. 'I was actually quite normal for most of it.'

'Really.' Tom said flatly.

'Well, I did accuse the Slytherin bunch of having a stick up their collective arses.' Harry added in afterthought.

Tom choked. 'You did _what_?'

'Hey! It solved the awkward formalness and they laughed!' Harry protested.

'How did you get a group of dignified, self-respecting Slytherins to take your comment in stride?' Tom demanded.

'Magic.' Harry whispered, waggling his fingers.

'Harry.'

'Tom.'

'….'

'Okay, okay, I'll stop being so annoying.' Harry huffed. 'I suppose you'll want to know which House I got sorted into?'

'Obviously.' Tom drawled.

'Guess how long it took me to get sorted this time.' Harry prompted.

'Longer than our thirty-first life?' Tom probed. Harry almost cackled at the memory. It was the one that he'd been a Dark Lord in. Most hilariously, Harry had gotten the Hat to put him in Gryffindor. Whenever Harry did something blatantly evil, the others would brush it off, saying that he was merely a boisterous Gryffindor who was 'Light and couldn't go wrong'.

'That was a good sorting.' Harry said cheerfully, reminiscing. 'This time, though, I asked to be in Ravenclaw.' Harry answered promptly. 'I know, kind of boring, but Hufflepuff's out of the question since I'm loyal to only you and Death. Gryffindor wouldn't do either since I'm merely marginally a Gryff', and Slytherin would give me away to Dumbledore too early. Hence, I decided upon Ravenclaw.'

'That is a smart move.' Tom conceded.

Harry grinned. 'High praise from the cunning Wizengamot Lord Caius Tomae Valerius." Harry referenced Tom's alter ego in politics. "Speaking of which, how have your Wizengamot jaunts been faring?'

Tom smiled deviously. 'How kind of you to ask. I'll have you know that I successfully brought the Federalists two seats closer to usurping the majority party of Whigbaggers.'

'And Dumbledore?' Harry prompted.

'As absent from the Mugwump and Wizengamot meetings as ever.' Tom smirked.

'Has he noticed you yet? It's been what— seven years?— since you first entered politics.' Harry snorted.

'Oh, he's received reports vaguely speculative about me, but he remains mostly oblivious. He's quite politically inactive, and I've hardly done anything drastic enough to cause alarm.' Tom said airily.

'Ah well. I'll enjoy his reaction when he finally takes note of you. And speaking of his reactions, he's also been very cautious towards me, even though I didn't go to Slytherin.' Harry said offhandedly.

'Weren't you the one who wanted to act like Tom Riddle reincarnate?' Tom pointed out.

Harry sniffed. 'I'll have you know that I'm much cooler than any reincarnation of you. And, I admit that I had forgotten how annoying Dumbledore could be when I decided to have my fun with him.'

'What's your next course of action, then?' Tom inquired.

Harry shot him a feral grin. 'Since he already thinks I'm a dangerous Darkling, why not fully commit to the part? I'll act just like the Tom Riddle that he fears.'

'You're evil.' He said with a straight face.

Harry rolled his eyes. 'Says Lord Voldemort. Anyways, it's not like I'll be terrifying all the time. I'll only do it when I'm in his vicinity. But I'll be hilarious still.'

'That's essentially what you said when you played the Dark Lord in our thirty-first life.' Tom commented.

'I _was_ a Dark Lord, I didn't just act like one. Give credit where it's due.' Harry said in a dignified manner.

'And I was your fellow Dark Lord, a French counterpart.'

'Listening to your French accent when you tortured the prisoners was so sexy.' Harry sighed dreamily.

Tom smirked. 'Almost as attractive as the bizarre uniforms for your followers?'

'Definitely.' Harry said cheerfully. 'Anyways, darling, I'll have to get my beauty sleep now.'

'Sweet dreams.' Tom smirked.

'Only if you're in them.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my second draft of this chapter, I ended up taking out the dialogue between Harry/Hermione/Neville/Draco&Co. on the train since the chapter's word count was at **9,803** with it! That's 3x my target chapter word count. However, by the time I was writing the final draft, I was like 'heck the word count' and re-included it since several readers requested the scene. (I _**genuinely**_ care about what you think! If you want to give feedback, feel free to comment, and there's a good chance that what you say _will_ influence how I write my chapters/what I write)
> 
> I had the choices of 1) leaving the 9,803 word chapter as is and possibly boring the readers, 2) splitting the chapter in two parts and therefore making it so that it would take 4 weeks (two weeks per upload/part) to cover the whole chapter, or 3) spending forever rewriting and making the chapter more efficient.
> 
> Anyways, I ended up choosing option #3 since it would best please readers. Admittedly, it did result in several additional hours' worth of work (I spent _16 hours_ total on this chapter) rewriting the the whole thing so that I could include all the plot elements/dialogue while also slimming it down to 4,500 words ish. 
> 
> I typically spend 14-18 hours on each chapter since I **completely** rewrite almost all of them :'). Just know that what gets uploaded here is usually the fourth or fifth draft and is _way_ different from the original, no matter how time-consuming the process is. Living healthy? Getting enough sleep? Who's she? Never heard of her.
> 
> Also, EH now has **FANART**! Fidgetelftree, my wonderful reader and pen pal, has made a piece on Tom and Harry's Life #7. If anyone ever feels the inclination to talk privately/draw fanart/wants a shoutout,  email me at avaluxis@gmail.com. I've also included that email address on my ao3 profile. Link to fanart can be found [here](https://tired-luxis.tumblr.com/post/180452496434/fidgetelftree-made-this-wonderful-fanart-of-tom) on my tumblr ❤️
> 
> -Luxis


	9. --Life #31--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick A/N: As you may have noticed, most of the mini-chapters are hint towards future fulfillment, and that's because these are introductory chapters! The bulk of the "plot" for each mini-chapter will be covered in later uploads. Essentially, think of the first chapter devoted to each life as an exposition of sorts.

**Life #31 Case files:**

**Who:**

Tom is Yanis Chalon

Harry is Adrian Robins Jr.

**What:**

Tom is the French Dark Lord

Harry is an aspiring Dark Lord in Gryffindor

**When:**

Tom is born in 1660

Harry is born in 1670

**Where:**

Magical Britain (Harry) and Tom is in Magical France

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

_"Guess how long it took me to get sorted this time." Harry prompted._

_"Longer than our thirty-first life?" Tom probed. Harry almost cackled at the memory of their thirty-first life. He'd been a Dark Lord in that one, and Tom was the French Dark Lord. Most hilariously, Harry got the Hat to put him in Gryffindor, and it was incredibly funny too. Harry would do something blatantly evil, but the others would brush it off, saying that he was merely a boisterous Gryffindor who was 'Light and couldn't go wrong'._

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

Cassandra Selwyn, third daughter to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Selwyn, was a failure. She had been disowned and abandoned on the squalid streets for years before meeting a wealthy Muggle by the name of Adrian Robins. Robins had an affair with Cassandra until one day, she fell pregnant. He cast her aside for fear of their affair being discovered, and in doing so, effectively broke her heart and will to live.

When it came time for her to give birth, she'd barely made it to the sanctuary of Pond's orphanage before collapsing in the throes of labor and remaining at great risk of dying in childbirth. With her last breath, she'd given her newborn son — _Harry_ — the name of "Adrian Robins Jr.", and left him in the care of Pond's orphanage staff.

Harry learned of all this from Matron Carol when he was older. Upon hearing this story, he'd actually cackled aloud at the uncanny similarities between his background and Tom's. Harry was four when he decided that he would further the similarities by becoming a Dark Lord when he grew up, just like Tom had back in their first life.

Thus, he endured his childhood with that singular goal in mind— to be as similar to Tom Marvolo Riddle as possible. It wasn't all that hard, too; the children at Pond's orphanage were as nasty and cruel as the ones at Wool's from Tom's youth. Hence, Harry didn't feel particularly guilty when he enacted fitting punishment to the lot of bullies and brats.

For the additional authenticity, Harry had strung a bully's rabbit up by the rafters when the aforementioned bully had gotten too bothersome. He'd also almost-drowned a couple of particularly nasty orphans by the beachside, just as Tom had done. All in all, Harry felt that he was doing an excellent job of mimicking his soulmate, and he greatly looked forward to telling Tom all about this when they met during this life.

The only problem was, Harry didn't know Tom's identity in this rebirth. Sure, there were some obscure rituals that would be able to do so, but Harry didn't bother since he figured that he'd meet Tom sooner or later.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

When Harry was eleven, the Hogwarts headmaster came to Pond's orphanage for the customary Muggleborn-student-visit. Harry returned the honor by terrifying the headmaster. It was an overall win-win for Harry, as the headmaster soon grew leery and left him alone quicker than a spooked crup.

Additionally, Harry was also sternly told after the Hogwarts Sorting that it was "not the norm" for students to sit under the Hat for over half an hour, but that was dumb. The reason why he'd taken so long to be Sorted was because he spent forever convincing the Hat to put him in Gryffindor (Harry definitely didn't act like a Gryffindor, hence, the Hat didn't want to put him there). Therefore, it was technically the Hat's fault for taking so long. Since the Hat was an ornery, doddering thing, Harry _naturally_ needed to take a while to fully persuade it.

Ah, well. All's the sadder for them— it was their fault, after all, that they didn't know about the ability to mess with the Hat.

Consequently, Harry's Sorting was taken at face-value by everyone. All the teachers and students knew him as the "lovable, intelligent, boisterous Gryffindor". Not a single person suspected Harry's true nature or life ambition to become a Dark Lord.

Harry found their naïveté rather entertaining. To pass the time while he waited for Tom, Harry invented a little "game" called Screwy-Screwy. This game had one objective: how far could Harry go before the teachers would realize what type of person he really was?

In his first year, Harry upended the Great Hall tables and set several swarms of pixies loose during exam season. He was fondly called a 'fun little troublemaker'. All the professors, save for the wary headmaster, thought Harry was an adorable prankster.

As a second year, Harry managed to simultaneously drain the lake and flood all four Houses' dorms. The Giant Squid had not been happy about the situation, but Harry was able to subdue the displeased marine beast until the teachers got the situation under control.  He'd gotten off with only fifty points lost and detentions until the rest of the term, which wasn't saying much since there were only two months left before the summer holidays.

In third year, Harry was carrying a massive vat of a foaming, unidentified potion when he 'accidentally' tripped in the Great Hall and sent the vaporous potion flying everywhere. The potion fumes filled the Hall in no time, and —how unfortunately and unexpectedly— the potion was potent enough to take effect even if inhaled. Goodness, what a surprise. It was certainly, completely, truly unintentional on Harry's part, of course. Anyways, the professors were frantic as they tried to figure out what Harry had just unleashed into the atmosphere.

In only minutes, however, it soon became clear exactly which potion he'd brewed and just happened to let loose in the Great Hall. It was a Feel-Thoughtful potion, which was fairly benign in small doses, but this batch had been a bit _too_ strong and as a result, everyone was higher than a lot of tripping stoners. Harry, for one, ended up having a scintillating conversation with the transfiguration professor regarding the subtleties of wooing trolls. Once the potion wore off, the professors were too emotionally moved by the numerous profound discussions the potion had instigated to actually feel any ire towards Harry. So, he'd only lost a hundred points and received eight weeks of detention.

During fourth year, Harry charmed all the portraits in the castle to sing in unison upon his command. As a result, all of Hogwarts had been serenaded by the portraits' off-key rendition of a drunken bar song every day at exactly midnight, effectively waking everyone up. It was always punctually at the stroke of twelve, and the teachers were helplessly flapping their hands about as they tried to undo the spell.

When weeks passed and the situation still hadn't been resolved, the students had by then already become fairly frazzled and snappish. No one could prove that Harry was the one who did it, though everyone knew that it was he, Prank Prince Adrian Robins, who had turned their sleeptime to a living hell. Anyhow, since professors couldn't definitively determine that Harry was the culprit, he ended up going scot-free.

Then, during his fifth year, Harry changed everything in Hogsmeade to the color pink. And by everything, Harry meant everything. The walls, storefronts, products, clothes, sweets, and even the _inhabitants_ were spelled to be varying hues of the color. One storeowner, who had been turned a particularly violent shade of neon pink, almost castrated Harry on the spot.

The only reason why there wasn't a Ministry investigation was because 1) Harry was well-loved for his 'funny Gryffindor pranks', 2) it was a tricky bit of impressive Charms, and 3) the Ministry still had no idea how Harry did it, so they decided to let the matter slide to avoid drawing attention to the fact that a fifteen-year-old had bested Ministry officials. In the end, Harry escaped with his male genitalia intact (no thanks to you, shopowner-who-tried-to-castrate-Harry), and only received a half-hearted threat of suspension.

By the time he was a sixth year, Harry was finding it difficult to continue surpassing his previous year's stunts. It was almost the end of the school year, and he still hadn't done anything. Everyone in the castle was on pins and needles— they knew that Harry would try something anytime now, and they were both anticipating and dreading whatever Harry had up his sleeve this time.

At the end of the term, they were boarding the Hogwarts Express for the ride home, but Harry _still_ hadn't done anything. The betting pools amongst students were going crazy as everyone argued whether Harry would let them off this year, or if he planning something spectacular for King's Cross. As it turned out, the latter theory was correct.

The train had barely pulled into the station when all of a sudden, everyone was turned into the most ludicrously colored geese. There was a perfect chaos as the horde of student-geese squawked, attacked, fluttered furiously, and geese-shrieked. The parents were aghast at the sight as well, and several mothers had actually begun running about and screaming for their children.

Geese, a species nasty enough to belong to the seventh circle of hell on a good day, were bad enough on their own. However, when the geese in question were actually panicked, infuriated students, things became a hundred times more entertaining. Harry, who had turned himself into a goose as well to throw off suspicion, was cheerfully flapping amongst the rest of his crazed brethren. After ten minutes of this madness, he called off the spell. The only thing left of his little bit of fun was the layer of multicolored feathers that had fallen to the ground. All in all, it was a very productive prank, and his name would go down in infamy.

Things quieted down a little in Harry's seventh year. He had been delving deeper and deeper into Dark magic while in the shelter of the Chamber of Secrets these seven years, and so Harry finally decided that he was ready to become a Dark Lord.

Harry already had an Inner Circle of sorts, since his charismatic, devilish personality had won him a devoted following. The Gryffindors flocked to him for his god-level pranks, the Ravenclaws for his massive wealth of knowledge and intellect, the Slytherins for his Dark aura that for some reason only a few people could sense, and the Hufflepuffs for the allure of giving loyalty to the fascinating Adrian Robins.

Yes, admittedly, Harry had come to the conclusion that his game of Screwy-Screwy had perhaps taken things a bit _too_ far. At this point, he could no longer operate under the excuse of "emulating Tom Riddle". However, Harry wasn't too bothered by this revelation. All this meant was that he would simply have to become a Dark Lord in a different fashion— a more _unique_ fashion.

It seemed that Harry was developing a style of his own, and he found that he rather liked it.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

_"That's essentially what you said when you played the Dark Lord in our thirty-first life." Tom commented._

_"I was a Dark Lord, I didn't just play like one. Give credit where it's due." Harry said in a dignified manner._

_"And I was your fellow Dark Lord, a French counterpart."_

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

It was just after the new year when things started to become especially interesting.

One ordinary January morning, Harry was sitting with his inter-House group of loyal friends in the Great Hall eating breakfast when the post owls came as usual. He was about to start unhurriedly reading through his mail when the sealed parchment at the top caught his eye.

The letter was from one of his Inner Circle members that had already graduated. The aforementioned member was from a French pureblood family that was seeped in the Dark Arts; in France, there was far less stigma against the Dark, which is why he had greater access to the news in the Dark community. So, it was always a welcome occasion when this follower wrote to report something of notice.

Harry scanned through the letter, his eyes growing wide as he continued to read. For, according to Harry's correspondent, the upper echelons of Dark wizarding society all spoke of a rumor that claimed there was a new Dark Lord. From what Harry's informant had heard, the mysterious Dark Lord went by a false name of Lord Cherâme and was relatively youthful. Some sources even said that Cherâme was only in his late twenties.

This Lord Cherâme was recruiting followers, and word had it that he already virtually controlled the higher-ups of the Ministry of Magical Affairs of France. When finished reading, Harry sat back and contemplated this new development.

Lord Cherâme's conquest strategy, dueling style, raid tactics, and Ministry occupation— all those were done in a manner suspiciously similar to that of a certain someone that may or may not have been known as _TomMarvoloRiddletheLordVoldemortwithDaddyIssues_. Indeed, Harry would have to investigate further.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

"Why, that little _fucker_!" Harry said in half-awe, half-exasperation.

Alone in the Room of Requirement, he groaned and sank down against the wall, casting his newspaper aside. He was both frustrated and relieved, and was somewhat torn at the moment.

Finally, Harry had discovered who Lord Cherâme was. After scouring lists of graduates from Beauxbatons and other French schools, he'd found ten people who might have been Cherâme. Of those ten people, he'd tracked their post-graduation careers with meticulous care before narrowing it down to a single, remarkable prodigy-turned-Ministry-official named Yanis Chalon.

The more Harry read about Yanis, the more he realized that this Yanis Chalon was definitely none other than Tom. He was somewhat annoyed that Tom had remained hidden from Harry for all of Harry's seventeen years in this rebirth, but that wasn't even what had truly caused Harry's outburst.

For, Harry's fond irritation was because he'd at long last found out what "Cherâme" meant. It appeared to be a combination of "recherche" and "âme sœur", which literally meant "searching" and "soulmate" respectively.

 _Tom, you bloody idiot._ Harry mentally sighed. Why didn't Tom just use a spell or ask Death to locate Harry? Of course, both options were fairly complicated, but really? Naming himself "Cherâme"? What a drama queen.

~~~~~_____~~~~~______~~~~~

_Darling Yanis-Tom,_

_Congratulations upon your success as a Dark Lord. Though, I must admit, what sort of name is "_ Cherâme" _for a terrifying conqueror? You're an absolute twat, by the way, for all the unnecessary theatrics regarding that ridiculous moniker._

_To be fair, I don't suppose that I can lecture you of 'unnecessary theatrics' either. I've done my own share of dramatic stunts, so at least we're even in that aspect._

_I think we should have a little bit of fun, no? I, for one, have been happily immersed in the task of becoming a Dark Lord. In fact, it was one of my Inner Circle members who first alerted me of your rising presence in France's politics and Dark society._

_By the way, you owe me since I was the one who found you and discovered your identity in this life. You and your stupidly adorable 'Lord Cherâme' name probably would have had to spend a few more years looking before finding me. It is due to my diligent work that we can now reunite earlier in this life. Thankfully for you, however, I might let you repay that favor by giving me a nice, long kiss when we meet again._

_Toodles, you absolutely hopeless Frenchman,_

_-Adrian Robins, your beloved annoyance._

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

A week later, a letter sent from Yanis Chalon's address was delivered to Harry.

_Beloved Adrian-Harry,_

_You're an infuriating nuisance. If you don't quiet down, I'll have to change my name to Lord Tuer l'idiot_. _I'll let you discover that name's meaning for yourself._

_Speaking of dramatics, I most certainly have heard of your little antics. The King's Cross geese incident was kept hushed up by the Ministry, but nevertheless it wasn't quite a well-kept secret._

_And, if you truly wish to collect repayment for your favor, I suggest we meet up. Think of this as our first official date, Monsieur Robins._

_Sincerely,_

_-Yanis Chalon, your darling soulmate_

Harry raised his eyebrows at the letter, impressed. It seemed that Tom was as shameless as ever. He was about to return to his breakfast when a second letter arrived. Much to Harry's surprise, the letter was sealed with what looked to be… a crimson lipstick kiss?

Bemused, he quickly opened the envelope before someone would see. Soon, however, he realized that the letter itself was even _more_ scandalous than the kiss-sealed exterior.

_Beloved,_

_In an afterthought, I realized that our impending meeting might not happen for some while, due to you being enclosed by Hogwarts confinements. So, I have decided to write this letter as a form of 'down payment' for that favor you intend to collect._

_—Begin 'down payment'—_

_Harry, darling, I want you to envision being by my side. Picture the care with which I shall embrace you, cherish you, love you. For, as you arrive at my manor, you're immediately pulled close in a firm embrace as I cradle your young form and soothe your travel-worn body._

_You extricate yourself after a few long moments of this physical reassurance, and you glance upwards in a softened moment of intimate vulnerability. I slowly raise a hand to your visage and trace the lines of your delicate features with tender care. You lean into the touch, inadvertently closing your eyes as my fingertips and magic envelope your very being. Like the gentle wind brushing the petals of olden orchard, our magics meet in a delightful righteousness. With such comfort, you give a small smile as you're reminded once more of our soulmate bond._

_I gaze fondly upon your content expression and on impulse press a light, chaste kiss to your lips. Taken by surprise, your lashes flutter before you reciprocate. I deepen the kiss as I caress your raven locks and rub soothing circles along the nape of your hairline. You're unable to suppress the sounds of pleasure as the enjoyable touch continues, and I pull away briefly only to trail kisses along your exposed collarbone._

_You're in a haze of tempered lust, and—_ but, oh! _I'm leaving you on a cliffhanger. You'll have to find me in person to discover what happens next._

_See you soon,_

_-Tom_

Harry stared in incredulity at the letter, trying to ignore the faint blush that tinged his countenance. _That absurd, ridiculously sentimental—!_ He bit his lip to resist the smile that threatened to creep through his impassive façade.

His soulmate was an absolute dear, wasn't he?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there!! I just made a **tumblr account**.
> 
> Feel free to check it out _**[here](https://tired-luxis.tumblr.com/)**_. Alternatively, you can also flood my inbox on tumblr with messages if you're bored. Bonus points if you dm me some fun facts about wombats/ferrets that I didn't already know. If you send me/comment the phrase, **"snertle snertle"** , I'll tell you something personal about me/give a spoiler for EH.
> 
> Also, on an unrelated note, how adorable are Harry and Tom together????? They're my favorites!! I mean like, Tom naming himself "Cherâme"? And their letters of correspondence to each other? OhmyCircethey'resocute❤️❤️ (if you want, you can give kudos to show those two idiots some love)
> 
> -Luxis


	10. Continued First Year Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Recap of the previous main-chapter:**  
>  The Hogwarts term began. On the Hogwarts Express ride to school, Harry befriended Neville and Hermione, as well as Draco, Blaise, Daphne, and Pansy. Harry was also sorted into Ravenclaw after a lengthy Hatstall, and much to his delight, Hermione was too. Harry also discovered that Ravenclaws are a wonderful lot to screw around with. such as his dormmate Michael Corner. Harry also had a conversation with Tom over their mindlink before falling asleep. REMEMBER: Harry and Tom's mental consciousnesses are linked in a manner similar to how they were in their first life-- even though Harry isn't a Horcrux now, Harry and Tom still remain able to speak to each other/possess each other/see the world through the other's eyes/send each other visions/share dreams etc.

Harry was having an excellent time at Hogwarts. The classes all went something like this:

The teacher said Harry's name in roll call, and the entire class turned to look at him.

The teacher started their lesson, and whenever the teacher asked a question, Hermione answered, much to Harry's amusement. In the rare instances that Hermione didn't know something, Harry would reluctantly offer the answer when the teacher inevitably called upon him.

Once they were told what the classwork was, Harry effortlessly completed the task within a second, and the teacher would gape at him. He earned a lot of points for Ravenclaw like that. Between Harry's stellar wandwork and Hermione's incessant hand-raising, Ravenclaw was already at a hundred points by the end of the first day.

Bored, Harry sometimes helped others with their classwork or did his own thing. In transfiguration, he turned their matchstick into a beautifully carved, ornate alabaster statue of a stunningly dressed man in Ministrial robes. It was an amused bit of homage for Harry and Tom's third life, in which Harry had been the Head Auror and Tom had been the Minister of Magic.

And at the end of the class, Hermione would chatter happily with Harry about the lesson. Sometimes a Ravenclaw or two walked with them, but most often they would gaze in wonder at the Boy-Who-Lived instead.

The only subject that had been slightly different was Potions. This time around, Snape asked the class as a whole about bezoars, aconite, wormwood, and asphodel, instead of interrogating specifically Harry. Harry answered all nevertheless. He'd brewed their classwork potions flawlessly too, and Snape's impassive features almost slipped into a look of shock when Harry masterfully executed post-NEWT level brewing techniques. At any rate, the potions master appeared to be reserving judgement on Harry for the time being.

Currently, Harry was heading to Defense. They hadn't had it yet, and he was looking forward to finding out about the Voldemort-free Quirrel.

Harry sat towards the middle-front by Hermione, observing the Defense professor. He looked quite calm and collected, and didn't stutter once.

"Today we will be learning the _lumos_ spell. Can anyone tell me why something as seemingly innocuous as a lighting spell would be covered in a defense class?" Quirrel said, pulling down a diagram of the lumos incantation movements with a flick of his wand.

"Because visibility is important in a fight, especially since we likely will employ our defense skills in a situation that isn't in ideal conditions, Professor." Hermione said promptly.

"Correct. Five points to Ravenclaw. Is there another reason?"

"Because the lumos spell isn't only for visibility purposes." Harry said. "If mastered, lumos can serve as a distraction and a weapon. For instance, a highly powered _lumos_ can force the opponent to look away, and if done well, the _lumos_ light can appear away from your wand, drawing the opponent's attention elsewhere."

"But you can't have lumos appear anywhere other than at the tip of your wand." Michael Corner interrupted.

"Mr. Potter is correct, Mr. Corner. The Lumos spell most certainly can serve as a tool in combat, and the spell is capable of conjuring light away from the caster. It is extraordinarily difficult, but possible." Quirrel said, giving Harry an impressed look. "Twenty points to Ravenclaw from an innovative answer, Mr. Potter. May I ask how you knew of this specific function of Lumos?"

Harry grinned. Without saying anything, he first produced a _lumos_ strong enough to light the entire room in blazing brightness. Then, he cast several flashes of light alternating between different sides of the room. When he was finished, the class looked thoroughly stunned.

Quirrel quickly closed his hanging jaw and snapped back to his teaching stance. "…Extremely well done. Forty points to Ravenclaw."

Harry only smiled at the faces of his dumbstruck classmates. This would be a fun class period.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

Dumbledore, on the other hand, was most definitely _not_ having fun.

Harry Potter, Chosen One, was nothing like what he'd wanted. It felt as though the boy lived to simply spite Dumbledore. Just when Dumbledore would feel like he could start to understand Harry's erratic behavior, the boy would do something entirely unexpected and throw Dumbledore in for a loop yet again.

The worst part was that he couldn't even tell others about his concerns. For, all the teachers were enamored with Harry, and even _Severus_ was reluctantly warming to the mischievous child. Aside from Minerva, Dumbledore didn't have any confidants that could alleviate his burden of silence.

The poor man was absolutely, truly stumped.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

It was Samhain when Harry finally returned to Riddle Manor, back to his Eternal Self form. Harry and Tom performed the ceremony to honor the Samhain celebrations as usual before retreating to Tom's bedroom. The moment the door was closed, Tom spun around and pressed Harry against the wall.

"I haven't seen you in two months." Tom said, his beautifully dark eyes stormy in his frustration.

"We've been chatting over the mindlink?" Harry offered weakly.

"Not good enough." Tom growled, grasping Harry's chin forcefully and taking Harry's plush mouth with his own. His tongue insistently maneuvered between Harry's lips, sensually and impatiently probing. Harry responded by reaching up with a hesitant hand, eventually resting it at the nape of Tom's locks.

Tom deepened the kiss, his wonderfully scintillating touches causing Harry to moan as Tom traced Harry's tingling skin with his dexterous, long fingers. When Harry pulled away to breathe, Tom pressed small, brushing kisses along Harry's jaw and down the base of his neck, lingering on Harry's delicate collarbone. Harry tilted his head away to expose more skin, and Tom covered the side of Harry's neck with several kisses.

Suddenly, Tom bit down hard upon Harry's soft skin, sucking and scraping his teeth against Harry's skin. Harry felt a jolt of pleasure, arching his back with a gasp of surprise. Tom relentlessly pressed another kiss to Harry's lips, causing Harry's already flushed cheeks to deepen in color.

Once Tom paused for breath, Harry took advantage of his momentary lapse to return the favor, attacking Tom's lips with his own. He felt Tom's spine stiffen in surprise before relaxing into Harry's touch. Harry kissed him long and hard, unconsciously grinding his hips against Tom's, who pressed his knee between Harry's legs in return. Winding his hand in Tom's silken hair, Harry pulled hard, which made Tom's breath quicken. Harry grinned as Tom quickly regained his composure, taking the dominant position once again.

Their bodies were pressed flush with each other, Harry enveloped in the warmth of the taller wizard. They continued to kiss before sinking into a pleasant lull, simply holding on to each other in their content haze.

"You should have returned earlier." Tom murmured by Harry's ear, Harry leaning into Tom's chest.

"I should have." Harry agreed, trailing his fingertips down the back of Tom's shirt.

Tom responded by scooping him up in his arms with a surprised yelp from Harry, carrying him to their bed. He joined Harry in lying down upon the comfortable mattress, the two facing each other and limbs entangled in their close contact.

"How has it been without me around to annoy you?" Harry prompted after some silence.

Tom frowned. "I've explained your absence to the Death Eaters fairly easily; they think you're completing some difficult mission in a far-flung location. Dealing with Wizengamot without you to make things better when I get back is far more troublesome, however."

"But we've been talking via the mindlink." Harry pointed out. "Surely it wasn't that bad."

Tom glared at Harry. "Those conversations only served to remind me that I could not have you by my side."

"Wow." Harry sighed. "I'd almost forgotten how possessive you get."

"Should I refresh your memory?" Tom said with an intense gaze, kissing Harry again.

"You don't need to." Harry replied, brushing a stray hair from Tom's face.

"Good." Tom said with a hard look in his eye, pressing his thigh firmly against Harry's.

"You're so demanding." Harry smiled, pressing their foreheads together.

"Only because your delightful eyes make me so." Tom countered, placing a hand to the side of Harry's face.

"Are my eyes the sole reason for your possessiveness?" Harry teased.

"No, everything about you is." Tom said in his low baritone.

"I thought so." Harry smirked. "If it's of any comfort to you, I find you impossibly irresistible as well."

"That's a given." Tom scoffed, wrapping his arms around Harry's smaller waist.

"Smug bastard." Harry remarked fondly. "Though, there truly is no one at Hogwarts that could even come close to rivaling you."

"Not even Draco Malfoy and his friends that you so closely associate with?" Tom countered mockingly.

"Of course not. However, a certain Professor Quirrel might."

Tom snarled, pulling Harry closer. "You'd best be in jest, or I shall decimate the man where he stands."

Harry laughed, affectionately giving Tom a light nudge. "Obviously I'm not serious. But, the man is being much more… interesting than before."

Tom relaxed. "What do you mean?"

"Do you recall how I told you about his confident, capable teaching?"

Tom nodded. "Not having a Dark Lord at the back of his head probably did wonders for his confidence."

"You think?" Harry snorted. "He let in the troll this time around too."

Tom narrowed his eyes. "What for?"

Harry sighed. "I think it's for the same reason as in our first life. I snuck to the third floor and sure enough, he was there."

"Did Dumbledore place the infernal Stone back at Hogwarts again?" Tom said exasperatedly.

"Yup. He probably also decided to 'guard' it with the paltry barriers from last time too; undoubtedly trying to test me like he did before." Harry said irritably.

"Are you going to retrieve the Stone then?"

"I don't know. Should I?" Harry wondered.

Tom stared at Harry. "You do realize that Quirrel could desire the Stone for himself, right?"

Harry groaned. "I guess, yeah. I'll get the Stone as soon as possible. Of course Quirrel would have to be annoying— why can't he be a good little boy and leave me in peace?"

" _You're_ not a good boy." Tom pointed out dryly.

"Neither are you, so you can't lecture too." Harry stuck his tongue out.

Tom raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. Harry sighed and snuggled closer, his eyelids growing heavy. Before he knew it, he had fallen asleep.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

In light of their teachers assigning them massive amounts of homework, the study group that Harry had formed at the start of the year was in full swing. The members were Harry, Hermione, Neville, Draco, Blaise, Daphne, and Pansy.

"How do you do this problem?" Blaise demanded, staring in disbelief at the ridiculously difficult transfiguration problem scenario that McGonagall assigned them.

Draco reclined elegantly, perched upon the comfortable library chair. "I was able to finish it with ease." He said with a smug voice.

"Only because Harry helped you with it." Daphne countered.

"At least I know when and who to ask for help." Draco shot back. "Even if it means going to that madman Potter." He said with an almost fond look crossing his aristocratic features.

"Who's the madman?" Harry quipped, popping up from behind them.

"You." Draco pointed at him unaffectedly. "Also, we were beginning to wonder if you weren't going to show up to our study session."

"We've never missed a meeting yet." Hermione said indignantly, having arrived with Harry. "Admittedly, Harry does make us late sometimes, but that's about it."

"What held you back this time?" Pansy said with interest.

"Well, we would have been early, but _someone_ decided that they'd take a quick detour to torment some Gryffindors." Hermione sighed, giving Harry a pointed stare.

"I had good reason!" Harry protested. "They were being awful to Neville."

"Gryffindors turn on their fellow housemates?" Blaise inquired, surprised.

"Yup." Neville affirmed, sitting down next to Harry. "They kept telling me that I wasn't 'Gryffindor enough', and that I shouldn't be even considered a Gryffindor because of my 'disloyalty' for associating with the 'snakey' houses."

"That's awful." Blaise frowned.

"Rest assured; Harry most certainly did teach them a lesson." Hermione said with a vindictive look.

"Oh dear." Draco said with a mixed look of worry for the idiot Gryffindors' well-being and amusement with Harry. "Do I want to know what happened to them?"

Harry gave a slow, twisted smirk. "Let's just say that memories are best ingrained when there's a certain level of humiliation involved."

Daphne eyed Harry shrewdly. "Are there any terrified, babbling Gryffindors that we need to hide before a teacher finds them?"

"Possibly." Harry grinned. "More accurately, there might be some Gryffindors currently wetting their pants as they relive their most mortifying memories whenever they think of doing something bad to others."

"Ingenious." Draco remarked, impressed. "That is a truly fitting punishment."

Hermione was hiding her own smile. "While I don't condone this sort of behavior, I do concede that it was well-deserved on the Gryffindors' parts."

"Who were they?" Pansy piped up. "I can probably dig up some horrible dirt on them."

Harry laughed. "Ronald Weasley, Seamus Finnigan, and Dean Thomas."

"Incidentally, Neville shares a dorm with the three idiots and has to cope with their stupidity all the time." Hermione added. "Anyways, there's no need to take it any further for now, but feel free to do so if they do anything else."

"Duly noted." Pansy said with a devious grin to match Harry's.

The study group coalition's conversation shifted to academics, and they fell back into their easygoing dynamics. All in all, they made an excellent combination. Anyone who could tolerate and almost enjoy Harry's antics, however exasperated they may be by the end of it, was in his good books.

Anyhow, it wasn't as though he was _that_ crazy.

Probably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My heart's about to burst from happiness. 1600+ kudos and almost 25,000 hits?! Circe-- Eternal Hilarity has done so much better than I ever thought it would, and all your support has been overwhelming. Each comment/kudos/hit/rec/bookmark/subscription honestly is like this burst of hope and mellow warmth. **_Never_** underestimate the power of a kind comment; your collective encouragement truly motivates me to keep going.
> 
> And so, for the Winter Holidays, I have an **important PSA:**  
>  Hey everyone! Just wanted to let you know that I love you all _so much_! I don't know how to put it in words, so I'll settle for a round of ecstatic bear-hugs and air-kisses. Love you!! Love all of you!! Love all of you beyond belief!!💗💗💗
> 
> Oh, and feel free to poke around on my tumblr _**[here](https://tired-luxis.tumblr.com/)**_. 
> 
> -Luxis


	11. --Life #3--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favorite lives that I've written. Why?
> 
> Because the sexual tension is _off the charts_. Or at least it will be especially so in the sequel to this (aka the next time I do a mini-chapter on life #3).
> 
>  **Note:** Harry and Tom haven't ever been romantically involved yet, as of this life. Heck, poor Harry still can barely wrap his head around the fact that his soulmate is the glorious ex-Snake-Face.

**Life #3 Case files:**

**Who:**

Tom is Lucien Avery

Harry is Jasper Davis

**What:**

Tom is the Minister of Magic

Harry is the Head Auror

**When:**

Tom is born in 1892

Harry is born in 1900

**Where:**

Magical Britain

~~~~~______~~~~~_____~~~~~

_Bored, Harry sometimes helped others with their classwork or did his own thing. In transfiguration, he turned their matchstick into a beautifully carved, ornate alabaster statue of a stunningly dressed man in Ministrial robes. It was an amused bit of homage for Harry and Tom's third life, in which Harry had been the Head Auror and Tom had been the Minister of Magic._

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

Harry had recently become the Head Auror at the young age of twenty-nine, which was definitely an accomplishment to be proud of. It was also an election year, meaning that the new Minister had just been chosen. According to the daily prophet, it was the Majority Leader in Wizengamot, Lord Lucien Avery.

Because Harry hadn't been much involved with the legislative side to Ministry, he hadn't yet met the famed Lucien Avery. According to the clock, he would be meeting the newly elected Minister in his office in a few minutes. With some modicum of nervous anticipation, Harry gave his desk a once-over and tidied it up some more.

When the time finally came, the Minister arrived with absolute punctuality. Harry welcomed Avery with gracious politeness and had just shut the door behind them when _it_ hit him.

There was this subtle, almost unnoticeable tug between him and Avery. Harry knew his magical aura well enough to immediately recognize the way his magic was soothed by Avery's, and he almost closed his eyes in the blissful sensation.

That's when realization hit Harry, and he jolted away in shock.

"Oh for Merlin's sake—!" Harry exclaimed, burying his head in his hands.

The Minister wore a similar scowl. "Potter." He narrowed his eyes.

"Hello, Voldemort." Harry said in a resigned sort of way.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

 _"_ —wait, what the _fuck_ , Death _?"_ Harry shouted at the immortal being.

"My apologies, Master." The cloaked figure said with a shrug.

"What do you mean, I can't get rid of him?!" Harry yelled.

"You two are soulmates, as I have explained several times before." Death said in exasperation. "Hence, you cannot be reborn separately."

"I don't even want to be reborn over and over again, let alone with _him_!" Harry said in frustration.

"Too bad. That ship sailed long ago when you accepted the third Hallow, and when he made you his Horcrux for almost two decades." Death said, unaffected.

"But—!"

"There's no changing it." Death rolled his eyes. "Besides, at least he's good-looking."

"Good looking? _Good looking_? I couldn't care less if he looked like a damn supermodel. Because in the end, I still have to see his face day in and day out thanks to our respective positions at the Ministry! Do you know how much interaction is required between the Minister and Head Auror? It's a lot, you know!" Harry ranted.

"You think he's better looking than a supermodel?" Death perked up.

Harry groaned. "Out of all the things I say, you decide to focus on that?"

Death shot Harry a grin. "Of course I had to. Now, I have to go since there's been a flash-massacre in Namibia and my underling reapers are calling."

"Wait—"

But Death had already made its exit.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

All the Heads of Departments had been called to the weekly briefing from the Minister, and therefore Harry also had to be there. He would have gladly skipped these cabinet sessions, but he couldn't exactly do so since it would be very noticeable if the Head Auror decided to not show up.

Mercifully, this week's meeting was about to draw to a close. Harry had been listening to _Voldemort_ give speeches on public infrastructure safety as well as health regulations for the past two hours, and he found it ludicrous that the psychopath Dark Lord would genuinely care about all this.

When the meeting was finally over, Harry unintentionally took a bit longer to pack his things because he was still lost in bitter reminiscence of what Voldemort had done in his first life. He mentally laughed at the thought of Voldemort giving lectures on cauldron safety standards, and it was only when he felt a hand on his shoulder that he realized he had accidentally snorted aloud.

Harry turned around to face whoever it was behind him, and saw with a resigned sigh that it was none other than Lucien Avery. To make matters worse, they were the only ones left in the room. Suddenly, the room felt a lot smaller than it was, with only them in it. Harry was hyperaware of their close proximity.

Recently, Harry found that his gaze would inadvertently stray towards Voldemort. He would be working on a case or discussing a search warrant with a fellow Auror, and minutes later, he would realize that he had been staring at Voldemort the entire time. It was all rather disconcerting, and Harry was half-convinced that it was some sort of sorcery that made Voldemort so… captivating.

Stubbornly refusing to accept his newfound _gravitation_ towards Voldemort, Harry staunchly reasoned that he had simply been keeping an eye on the Dark Lord to ensure that the megalomaniac didn't kill everyone.

However, as the months passed and Voldemort still hadn't done anything incriminating, Harry grew frustrated. In fact, it seemed that Voldemort could even be considered a _good_ Minister. He'd gotten more legislation passed in his first year in the position than any of his predecessors. And the thing was, Voldemort was an _undeniably_ excellent politician.

Try as Harry might, he was forced to admit that Voldemort was an amazing tactician, skilled strategist, charismatic speaker, and efficient lawmaker.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

It was with great chagrin and grudging appreciation that Harry congratulated Voldemort upon his latest feat at the end of the meeting.

"That was a… good Wizengamot session." Harry said to Voldemort on their way out with a look of distaste.

Voldemort smirked at Harry's reluctant admission. "Why, thank you, Head Auror Davis. So it seems that you can be agreeable after all." He said with a pleasantry that didn't match the unreadable look in his dark hazel eyes.

Irked, Harry scowled at the man. "I gave you a compliment. Why're you still so rude?"

"I refuse to be polite to those who offer false flattery." Voldemort drawled.

"But I meant what I said." Harry said truthfully, frowning.

"Really now?" Voldemort said skeptically.

"Yeah, really." Harry crossed his arms. "As much as it pains for me to admit it, you're unfortunately quite an effective politician."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes at Harry, clearly unsure if Harry was having him on or not. "Thank you, Head Auror Davis." He said after a pause.

Harry observed at Voldemort, surprised at the man's tone. He'd never seen Voldemort truly surprised before, and Harry was astonished that it took a mere compliment to make Voldemort so on guard. Was that perhaps even a hint of uncertainty flickering in his expression?

 _Huh._ Harry thought to himself as Voldemort walked away. _This could be interesting._

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

"Congratulations in passing the Intersectional Magical Creature-Human Affairs bill." Harry said casually, having ran into Tom in the lounge while on a coffee trip.

"…Potter."

"Sorry, don't know who that is." Harry said blithely. "I'm Jasper Davis, remember?"

Voldemort gritted his teeth. "How could I forget, _Davis_?"

"Surely you could at least call me by my first name. We've been coworkers for almost two years by now, _Lucien_." Harry said with pretend hurt.

"How courteous of you to remind me. Japser." Voldemort said irritably.

"No need to say my name like a death threat." Harry raised his hands in mock surrender. "Then again, you never did have much success in the murder department, so I suppose I shouldn't be too worried."

"What do you mean by that?" Voldemort asked in a menacing voice, his eyes flashing.

"Why, Lucien, I was only referring to your _respectable_ occupation as a renowned politician. Surely politicians wouldn't commit homicide, would they? They aren't _insane mass murderers,_ after all."

"What an astute observation." Voldemort remarked sardonically. "The implications of your statement, on the other hand, are far less commendable."

"Implications? Minister, I wouldn't dare insinuate anything, I assure you. I was merely trying to compliment you."

As Harry sauntered out of the lounge, he couldn't help but think that Voldemort's disbelieving expression made the exchange worth it.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

"The weather's been perfectly lovely lately, hasn’t it?" Harry said, having poked his head inside Voldemort's office to say hello.

"The weather has been agreeable, yes. However, I sorely wish I could say the same of a certain coworker _'s_ behavior." He said, pointedly glaring at Harry.

Harry mock-gasped. "Workplace drama! How intriguing. Is this coworker someone we know?"

If looks could kill, Harry would have been sliced and diced seven ways to hell already.

"How kind of you to ask." Voldemort said brusquely. "It is indeed someone that we both know, and I believe that you in particular happen to know this person in question very well."

"Oooooh, do tell! Who is it?" Harry said with a fake squeal of excitement. He skipped inside Voldemort's office and plopped himself into one of the chairs before Voldemort's desk.

"It's someone who I dearly desire to throttle." Voldemort seethed, his hands flexing to mimic a crushing motion. Harry had no doubt about whose neck Voldemort fantasized about choking.

"For shame, Minister!" Harry scolded. "I shouldn't think that you would find such antagonism towards a coworker to be of proper decorum. Weren't you the one lecturing me on professionalism just yesterday?"

Harry could see the vein throbbing at Voldemort's temple.

"Lucien, you look rather aggravated. Would you like to take the day off?"

Voldemort made a strangled sound of fury. " _Get out!_ "

Harry obliged, laughing uproariously the whole while.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

"Morning, Lucien." Harry said offhandedly in the Memo Owlery.

"Have you come to infuriate me again?" Voldemort said in a threatening voice, making it clear that he might actually act upon his wish to murder Harry if he did annoy the man.

"Nah, I think I'll pass." Harry said nonchalantly. "I merely wanted to greet you. Considering that our respective duties require us to interact with each other frequently in the workplace, I decided that I might as well make those interactions pleasant ones."

"…really, now." Voldemort said dubiously.

"Completely for real." Harry said cheerfully.

"Forgive me if I don't believe you." He said flatly. "What is it that you really want?"

"Like I said, I was just exchanging pleasantries." Harry said innocently.

"As if your brutish thought process could ever come to that decision." Voldemort sneered. "What is it that you really want?"

Harry widened his eyes in mock hurt. "Goodness, Lucien. So hostile. It's as though we have _bad history_ , which I'm sure we don't since _we_ hadn't even known each other before the Ministry, correct?"

Voldemort scoffed contemptuously. "I commend you for your efforts in maintaining this façade. However, it won't fool me. Don't think I'm oblivious to whatever schemes you're up to this time."

"I wouldn't dream of it." Harry smiled widely.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

"Your Wizengamot presence was stunning today." Harry commented, having stopped by Voldemort's office again.

Voldemort had a rather pinched look on his face. "My 'presence', you say?"

Undeterred, Harry continued. "Yes, exactly. I was referring to your effective vocal inflection, level tempo of speech, measured body language, confident posture and stance, and overall excellence in perceptual dominance."

"You were enamored by the aesthetics of my presentation." Voldemort summarized dryly.

"Correct!" Harry chirped. "In fact, one might even go as far to say that you _looked good_ standing up there."

Voldemort's gaze turned alarmed, clearly not having expected this statement. "Jasper, if you're here in jest—"

"But I wasn't joking, Minister." Harry said with affected earnestness. Much to his horror, he realized that he _hadn't_ been kidding. Voldemort did look gorgeous on a daily basis, and he looked even more so amazing when he had that aura of authority about him in Wizengamot. Mercifully, though, Harry was able to keep his internal turmoil hidden and his expression carefully blank.

"…very amusing, Davis." Voldemort said after a beat, doing his best to not seem at a loss for words.

"I thought we were on a first-name basis?" Harry said immediately with a pout.

"Not when you're being an intolerable idiot." Voldemort snorted.

"Aw. It hurts to be rebuffed by such a handsome man, you know."

"Why, you insipid, horrid—!"

Harry took that as his cue to leave, and he threw one last lewdly appreciative look at Voldemort, who almost chucked a folder at him for that.

Harry knew he'd perhaps overstepped a little just then, but he rationalized his behavior by telling himself that it had been a joke. He hadn't _really_ thought that Voldemort was fit. No, he would never think that Voldemort was even the slightest bit attractive. Never would Harry ever feel that way, and he hadn't meant it earlier. Certainly not.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

"Those robes are wonderfully tailored." Harry said suddenly in the middle of their one-on-one briefing in Voldemort's office.

"What?" Voldemort said warily.

"I said, your robes are wonderfully tailored. Were they done by H.M. & Sans.?" Harry persisted.

"Yes. How could you tell?" Voldemort said with painfully forced pleasantness.

"Just a hunch."

"And how are my robes relevant to the briefing?"

"Oh, they aren't really." Harry shrugged. "I just felt like mentioning it."

"…you just felt like it." Voldemort repeated in a deadpan.

"What? Your robes look good on you, and you should know it." Harry said without thinking.

"Excuse me?" Voldemort said incredulously.

Harry wanted to go back in time and slap himself. "I wasn't being serious." He said, doing an admirable job of not letting his internal panic show. "Surely you wouldn't think that I was _complementing_ you."

"Obviously not." Voldemort said, appalled at the thought.

Harry quickly steered the conversation towards safer topics and almost breathed a sigh of relief when Voldemort appeared to have forgotten Harry's slip-up.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

"What did you think of the French Ministry of Magic's dignitary?" Harry asked offhandedly after a meeting with the aforementioned man.

"You'll have to be more specific than that. Were you asking me of my opinion regarding his hairstyle or the proposed legislation?" Voldemort replied dryly.

"No need to be so snarky." Said Harry, the one who was infamous for his snark. "Anyways, I was asking for your take on his suggested alliance between international Auror departments. Would it be a strategic diplomatic choice to follow through, or an overexertion of the strained British Auror forces?"

"You're the Head Auror. What do you think?" Voldemort countered.

"Huh. You never ask me for what I think." Harry said with a raised brow.

"Because generally, you have no knowledge of any Ministrial matters that don't involve brutish skirmishes."

"Brutish skirmishes?" Harry echoed, bemused.

"Violent confrontations and the like. You know, essentially all physical action that the Aurors must take care of."

"To be fair, I've never had the need to concern myself with the dirty workings of Ministry politicking." Harry retorted. "In the Ministry legislature, it's all high-society political nastiness. For instance, there, your robes and blood status matter almost as much as the content of your speeches."

"Appearances are important in all interactions." Voldemort said dismissively. "I'm more inclined to think that you simply are terrible at aesthetics, which is why you resent the legislature so much."

"Well, not all of us can be a bloody Eros and look good in everything." Harry muttered under his breath.

The moment the words were out of his mouth, he froze. Had he just said….?

 _Oh, Godric._ Harry mentally groaned. Judging from Voldemort's shocked expression, he had indeed just called the Dark Lord a "bloody Eros".

"Er, I was only joking." Harry said lamely. "Surely you wouldn't think you _actually_ look like a Greek god, right? Then again, some might say you do, I suppose, with your broad shoulders, but that's all nonsense since you're definitely not that attractive— but all right, I suppose maybe, with your jawline— I mean, I was just kidding, oh buggering _hell_ I swear this wasn't how it was supposed to go—!"

Voldemort was staring at him with progressively increasing surprise and amusement. Terrified of what the man would say, Harry fled the room before Voldemort could gather his wits.

Once Harry was alone in his own office, he promptly dropped his pretense and banged his head against the wall, his cheeks thoroughly flushed.

 _What was that?!_ Harry mentally screamed at himself.

Though his attempts to be pleasant and agreeable had intended to be a means of unsettling Voldemort, it seemed that Harry had played himself. He hadn't anticipated this… development.

For, as Harry realized with growing horror, he had _meant_ it when he said Voldemort was attractive.

The worst part was, Harry fancied _Voldemort_ , not just Voldemort's reborn body. Despite his best efforts to resist, Harry found himself susceptible to the man's charisma. Indeed, Harry was utterly captivated by Voldemort's effusive charm, alluring confidence, brooding manner, refined sophistication, sardonic wit, and endearing arrogance. Certainly, the man's handsome visage was another factor in it all, but it wasn't the main reason for Harry's shamefully genuine feelings.

 _Oh, Harry_ , he thought to himself in resignation _. What have you gotten yourself into now?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just posted another Tomarrymort fic! Feel free to check out **His Deathly Beautiful Winter** at your leisure.
> 
> Also, how dumb are Harry and Tom? Like, go kiss each other already.
> 
> Please leave kudos/comments if you'd like!
> 
> (my tumblr: [luxis-ao3](https://tired-luxis.tumblr.com/)).


	12. Discoveries (thanks, Hagrid)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Recap of the previous main-chapter** :
> 
> Harry continues to astound teachers with his prodigious magical skill. Most notably, he has an interesting class with Quirrel in which Quirrel proves himself to be an actually competent teacher. Dumbledore is predictably at a loss and has no idea how to deal with Harry. Harry, meanwhile, chats with Tom over their mindlink frequently and also visits the Riddle Manor over Samhain. He also holds study group sessions with his friends: Hermione, Neville, Draco, Blaise, Daphne, and Pansy. Side note: I'll use some quotations from the Philosopher's Stone in this chapter, but I take no credit for Rowling's writing and I'm not generating profit from this work.

Harry's first year at Hogwarts was so far surprisingly uneventful. Back in his first life, a good deal of his first-year drama had stemmed from his rivalry with Draco. However, since Draco was now Harry's friend, things were awfully quiet. Sure, there was Michael Corner, but the bumbling Ravenclaw made for an awfully pitiful pseudo-schoolyard-rival that Harry soon grew bored of teasing.

All in all, Harry was sorely disappointed with the lack of excitement. He'd complained to Tom a few times over their mindlink, but eventually Tom grew annoyed with Harry's whining and booted him out of his mindscape. Resentful, Harry called Death just so he could vent.

"—and if you would believe the nerve of the man, he _dared_ suggest that I'm simply being restless. I mean, come on! He and I are _soulmates,_ and surely he would understand the pain that I'm going through." Harry finished with an overly dramatic flourish, flopping onto the bed in an aggrieved Victorian posture of distress.

Death only eyed Harry with disbelief. "Master, forgive me if I'm wrong, but doesn't Tom merely being honest? As much as I loathe that stuck-up, Death-defying, horrid, Fate-destroying, arrogant, Horcrux-having, nasty piece of—"

"Get to the point, Death." Harry interrupted, rolling his eyes. Death had never really forgiven Tom for making Horcruxes, as it made evident with its numerous tirades about Tom.

Death sniffed, affronted. "Well, if you insist upon being rude…"

" _Death_."

"Right! So, back on track. Even though I strongly dislike your poorly chosen soulmate, I must concede that he seems to be right in this situation. Why are you complaining about being bored? Surely the Philosopher's Stone would be of interest to you, and if not that, then perhaps Hagrid's future dragon and Quirrel would be."

Harry stared at the immortal being as his jaw dropped in amazement. "Oh _right_ , the Philosopher's Stone. I completely forgot about that!"

Death sighed. "Quirrel let in the troll just a month ago on Samhain, and you've forgotten already?"

"Shush, you." Harry said absentmindedly. "I've got me a few friends to agitate."

"Agitate?" Death echoed worriedly.

"Mmhmm. I'm going to give them a subtle nudge in the right direction, and if everything works out, there'll be another Harry Potter & Co. versus Quirrel showdown at the end of the school year!"

"Master, perhaps that isn't the best—"

"Later, Death!" Harry called out, already racing away.

"—idea." Death finished resignedly, staring morosely at Harry's disappearing figure.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

As it turned out, Harry's "subtle" hints were about as covert as the time when Tom had kissed him in front of a whole room of paparazzi back in life #44 as a means of coming out to the public. They were both very famous celebrities in that life, and needless to say, their respective managers were quite irate that they'd gone and made an international hubbub.

Anyhow, for the next couple of weeks, Harry took his friends on a whirlwind Tour de Stone. He'd dragged them to library, and he'd oh-so-conveniently made sure that they saw an old copy of the Prophet from a few weeks ago in the archives section. The headline said it all: GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST. Almost all of them had seen the article already when it'd first been published, but Harry figured that it wouldn't hurt to have a quick memory refresher.

Later, Harry just happened to be on the third floor and gotten them lost until they entered the forbidden third-corridor. He _Alohomora_ 'd the door at the end of the hall, and — _woopsies—_  accidentally shoved his friends inside along with him.

"Salazar, we're going to die!" Came Pansy's panicked voice in the pitch-black room.

"Relax, we'll be fine." Harry said offhandedly, waiting for one of them to notice the massive Cerberus that was probably somewhere inside the room.

"Fine?! This is room is on the forbidden corridor! Dumbledore said we can't be here!" Hermione shrieked.

"He was probably being loony as usual." Harry said dismissively. Was one of them going to notice Fluffy yet?

Draco stomped his foot petulantly. "Potter, I will flay your arse alive— _quit poking me, Neville—_ "

"Um, guys?" Neville said timidly.

"—and we can't even find our way out of this stupid, dark room—"

"Um, guys? Guys?" Neville said more loudly.

"—my Father will personally hear about this grievance—"

"Guys!" Neville shouted, a hint of hysteria entering his voice.

" _What_?" Came the irritated voices of almost everyone in the room.

"There's something slobbering on me!" He said, more high-pitched than usual.

 _Ah, finally._ "Really? How odd!" Harry said, a touch too cheerfully. "Let's get some light in here, shall we? _Lumos_!"

The room was instantly aglow with a dazzling brightness, revealing the three-headed growling at them across the room.

"…oh dear." Hermione whispered faintly.

" _Run!"_ Harry yelled, snapping them out of their stupor. They practically flew out of the room, and they were at the Great Hall by the time the adrenaline and shock died down somewhat.

"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" said Blaise finally once they'd calmed down a little. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does."

Daphne had got both her breath and her sharp temper back again. "You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" she said irritably. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"The floor?" Harry suggested. "I wasn't looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads."

"No, not the floor." Hermione interrupted. "It was standing on a trapdoor. It's obviously guarding something."

"Good to know that at least someone else has their wits about them." Daphne said haughtily.

"Are we not going to talk about the fact that there's a massive, class XXXXX beast hidden in a school full of children?" Draco said sarcastically. "And there's only a paltry lock in place to keep students out. We could have _died_ in this godforsaken, two-bit school."

"Is your father going to hear about that too?" Harry grinned.

"Sod off, Potter." Draco sniffed.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

Having properly terrified his friends for the day, Harry felt at peace. He was certain that The Incident would get at least some of his friends thinking, and hopefully it wouldn't be long before someone put two and two together.

Currently, though, he wasn't plotting anything. In fact, he was in the middle of a reading contest with Hermione. They had been trying to outdo each other in terms of book read per day ever since a couple weeks ago, but at this point, they were mostly reading for the sake of reading. Harry had just gotten all cozy and comfortable with a massive tome on the theory of Advanced Arithmancy when a Ravenclaw handed him a scroll that happened to be from none other than Dumbledore.

Harry sighed in annoyance and unfurled the scroll. He really didn't want to deal with the exasperating wizard at the moment, but the scroll turned out to be a mandatory invitation calling him to Dumbledore's office. It looked like his plans for a nice evening were down the drain.

A couple minutes later, he was at Dumbledore's office, having trudged up there rather sullenly.

"Good afternoon, Harry. Come, take a seat." Dumbledore said kindly, his eyes twinkling.

Harry obeyed silently, moving with an icy grace and a carefully impassive stare, his Tom Riddle mimicry on full blast. Dumbledore's twinkle faltered a little at Harry's cold look but valiantly maintained his grandfatherly persona.

"Lemon drop?" Dumbledore offered a tray of the sour sweets to Harry.

"No thank you, Headmaster." Harry said courteously, not even deigning to glance at the yellow candies. He lowered himself into the chair opposite Dumbledore in a single, fluid motion, arranging his hands over the pristine folds of his robes.

"Ah. Harry, I suppose you've been wondering why I called you to my office." Dumbledore said in an effort to break the stiffness between them.

"I was most curious, yes." Harry said coolly.

"My dear boy, I wished to speak with you because I was worried for you."

"Were you?" Harry commented idly. "I appreciate your concern, Professor Dumbledore."

"It's the least I can do, Harry. Your parents were good friends of mine." Dumbledore said gently.

Harry narrowed his eyes and shot Dumbledore a chilling look. "Interesting. You say you knew them well, and that my parents would have wanted me to be safe. Yet, you left me to the Dursleys' mercy and never once thought that my magic-hating relatives may have been abusive in their behavior."

Dumbledore was taken aback. "Harry, this is but a misunderstanding—"

"No, it isn't." Harry said icily, his voice sharp enough to cut stone. "Is there a way I could stay at Hogwarts over the break? I could work to compensate for my keep. I would do anything to avoid returning to _them._ "

Harry said the last word with such potent disgust that Dumbledore temporarily wasn't able to breathe. Harry's words were a near-perfect echo of Tom Riddle asking to avoid the orphanage. Finally, Dumbledore opened his mouth to reply. "Unfortunately, my boy, there is no alternative."

"Could I stay with another family, sir? My _muggle_ relatives are truly hateful in their intolerance." Harry sneered.

"You should be more open-minded, Harry." Dumbledore gave him a disappointed look.

"Professor, I hold no prejudice towards muggles as a demographic. I do, however, detest the hatred that some of them exhibit for our kind. The Dursleys fall in that latter category, and you cannot deny it." Harry said disdainfully.

"I cannot see why it would be so difficult to accept your blood relatives." Dumbledore chided him.

Harry stared at him in freezing disbelief. "Do you treat every case of an unhealthy home environment with such disregard? I wonder, Professor… how have other students from abusive homes turned out? I'd imagine that your _complete sympathy_  makes them absolutely _adoring_ followers of yours." Harry asked sarcastically.

For the second time, Dumbledore's breath caught in his throat. The image of Tom Marvolo Riddle was flashing before his thoughts again. Riddle had once told Dippet that the orphanage mistreated him, but Dumbledore had thought that it was another one of Riddle's emotional manipulations. And just then when Harry asked about other students... surely Harry couldn't be referring to Tom? But the similarities between the two were uncanny.

"I see." Dumbledore said finally. "Is there nothing I can do?"

"Do you really need me to answer that?" Harry replied flatly. Without a parting glance, he strode out the office and back to the dorms.

When finally ensconced within the security of his warded bed, Harry burst out laughing.

'Hey Tom!' He called into the mindlink. Tom's handsome face appeared at the other end within seconds.

'Yes?' Tom said a tad bit warily, given Harry's unusually mirthful look.

'I had the most entertaining discussion with Dumbledore.'

'Do tell.' Tom said.

'Remember how you would ask to stay at Hogwarts over the summer during your Hogwarts years?' Harry prompted.

When Tom nodded, Harry continued. 'Well, he essentially had the same conversation with me just now. And rest assured that it wasn't very fun for him.'

'You'll have to show me the memory over Pensieve when you get back for the holidays in two weeks.'

'Certainly, darling.' Harry grinned. 'Everything from his attempts to make me go after the Stone, to his 'your parents would love this' speech, all went wrong.'

Tom smirked. 'It's unusual, really, that for once it's not you who's messing up.'

'Hey!' Harry protested. 'I'll have you know that I'm a magnificent schemer. Remember our forty-fourth life? I was the one that allowed for us to meet.'

Tom scoffed. 'Please. What you _actually_ did was to text a random number that, luckily for you, just happened to be mine. You didn't even know who I was, and our eventual meeting was entirely by chance.'

Harry swelled indignantly. 'Rude! Technically speaking—'

'Save your breath, beloved.' Tom drawled. 'We both know that you're chaos personified, and it's a miracle that anything goes right with you.'

Harry only harrumphed in response.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

With a week left before winter break, Harry knew that he had to get his friends started on the Sorcerer's Stone sometime soon.

He dropped hint after hint about the trapdoor and what it could be guarding, but no one seemed to pick up on his clues. Finally, he was so frustrated that he ended up lassoing the bunch of them and hauling their obtuse selves to Hagrid's, who they visited frequently anyways.

"Say, Hagrid, we had a question for you." Harry said loudly.

"We did?" Blaise blinked.

Harry ground his heel on Blaise's toe, causing the boy to yelp in pain.

"Yes, we did." said Harry firmly. "In fact, we ran into an _interesting_ creature a couple weeks ago."

"Yeh did?" Hagrid leaned forward in interest as he made to pour them a cup of tea. "What sorta interestin' creature can yeh lot o' firs' years run inter?"

"Lots, apparently. More specifically, we came across a three-headed dog in the castle." Harry said innocently.

Hagrid dropped the teapot. "How do yeh know 'bout Fluffy?" He said, agape.

"Fluffy?"

"Yeah —he's mine— bought 'im offa Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year— I lent 'im to Dumbledore to guard the—"

"Yes?" said Hermione eagerly.

"Now, don' ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "Tha's top secret, that is."

"But it's in a castle full of children. Anyone can steal it." Draco pointed out.

"Rubbish," said Hagrid again. "Yer all students, an' yeh wouldn't do that."

"What if a teacher's after what Fluffy's guarding?" Harry asked.

"A Hogwarts teacher would do nothin' o' the sort. Even, say, a troll, wouldn' be able to steal it." Hagrid said, clearly grasping at finding a suitable explanation.

"Hang on a second…" Harry said suddenly. "Speaking of trolls, remember Halloween? Snape left the Hall almost immediately, but I heard that he didn't come back to the Slytherin dorms until really late that night, meaning that he hadn't left for the dorms even though he was supposed to escort them back."

Draco stared at Harry. "Are you pointing fingers at my Head of House?"

Harry shook his head, pretending to be oblivious. "No, I'm only trying to prove to Hagrid that there could be more to this than he's saying."

Pansy jumped up in excitement. "Harry has a point. Professor Snape took off _for the stairs_ that night, did you notice that? For all we know, he could gone upstairs to the third corridor. Plus, when he came back, he was limping and all grimace-y too. And I heard from a Gryffindor first-year who heard from a Hufflepuff prefect who heard from a—"

"We get it, Gossip Queen. Can you cut to the chase already?" Blaise said impatiently.

"I was doing that." Pansy said crossly. "Anyways, apparently, Snape was being treated for a massive bite by Filch the next day. Do you think that has anything to do with the dog?"

"That is somewhat suspicious." Daphne agreed thoughtfully.

"I'm telling yeh, yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don' know why Snape did that, but Snape wouldn' try and do anything bad! Now, listen to me, all of yeh— yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. Yeh forget that dog, and yeh forget what it's guarding, that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel—"

"Aha!" said Harry, "so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

Hagrid looked furious with himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave kudos/comments if you liked the chapter!
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	13. --Life #44--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All names and company titles are used for informative purposes, and this fic does not generate profit. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
> 
> Also, check out my favorite moonlight-modoki on tumblr! She's amazing, and her tomarry art gives me LIFE! Her ig is moko.soel

**Life #44 Case files:**

**Who:**

Tom is Sacha Chatillon

Harry is Valentin Blair

**What:**

Tom is the second heir-in-line to the Moët Hennessy Louis Valois international conglomerate

Harry is a French-English international supermodel

**When:**

Harry is born in 1999

Tom is born in 1995

**Where:**

Muggle Europe

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~~

Harry was elegantly draped across the chaise of his personal lounge in the backstage area of a Burberry photoshoot. He'd just finished an intense day of site shoots, and had been shuttled from location to location without pause. At the moment, Harry was waiting for the stylist to finish undoing his hair. He idly scrolled through his phone to pass the time, pausing every now and then to respond to some of the messages.

"Valentin!" His manager, Serena called out from a distance. "Listen, I just received word from headquarters that a Louis Valois casting agent just put in a special request for your ambassadorship presence at the London Fashion Week show. If it goes well, they're willing to extend brand partnership." She said excitedly.

"That's lovely." Harry said absentmindedly, still texting.

"Hey!" She said sternly. "I won't be having your no-shits-given attitude this time. They _personally requested_ you." She admonished him.

"So?" Harry said, unmoved. "I've walked for them at almost all their shows."

"What do you mean, 'so'?!" Serena exclaimed in frustration. "Valentin! At least act like you care. You need to make a good impression when casting starts." Serena hissed.

"Mm, wonderful." Harry said nonchalantly as he returned to his phone. "Is there a certain person I should message to 'make a good impression'?" He asked in an attempt to appease Serena.

"I'm not certain if we have a specified contact number." She frowned. "Then again, you could always try messaging the number that sent the offer. "

"All right then." Harry relented. "I promise I'll do that later. Now, if you could leave me be…"

Serena, taking the cue, left him alone after that.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

Late that night, Harry was alone in his hotel suite and lying on his bed as he stared grumpily at the phone number that Serena had written down for him.

She had been very clear that he was to personally call or message this number to thank them. Supposedly, it was to 'ensure that they knew of his genuine gratitude regarding the offer'.

Harry, being the aggravating little shit that he was, decided to defy Serena and do the most absurd thing in the situation.

That is, he would message the number, but send a _very different_ text from what Serena had imagined.

12:03 am: _Well, aren't you a sexy darling._

Inwardly smirking at the message that he'd concocted, Harry was about to cast his phone aside when it pinged.

12:04 am: **May I ask who this is?**

12:04 am: _I'm your gorgeous lover, of course._

There was a pause.

12:06 am: **My apologies. You seem to have the wrong number.**

12:06 am: _Darling, don't tell me you've forgotten me already._

12:06 am: **Your words suggest that you're an ex-paramour, but I haven't been in a relationship before. So, who are you?**

12:07 am: _Fine, you got me there. I don't know who you are, but this is too amusing for me to stop now. If you tell me who you are, I might disclose my name too._

12:08 am: **How kind of you to ask for my identity. I'm afraid that I can't divulge that information as of now, for it would dissipate this lovely, mysterious aura that I've so carefully cultivated.**

12:08 am: _…judging from your vocabulary, I'd say that you're a swot._

12:09 am: **You're not exactly wrong about that.**

Harry laughed aloud. This was going better than he'd originally anticipated— clearly, the person on the other end had a sense of humor too.

12:10 am: _As if I would be wrong about that prediction. Who uses the words —'divulge', 'dissipate', 'aura', and 'cultivated'— in the same sentence?_

12:11 am: **Someone with a modicum of intelligence, that's who.**

Harry could almost hear the person's sardonic voice.

12:11 am: _Rude. You sure you don’t want to say who you are?_

12:12 am: **I'm afraid not. It's much more interesting if neither party knows the identity of the other. Additionally, I cannot reveal my name because I am a public figure.**

Harry scowled at the screen. Fine, be that way.

12:17 am: _Your loss. Jeez, if you gotta be so uptight, I'll have you know that I'm well-known too._

12:17 am: **Really, now.**

12:17 am: _Your doubt wounds me, good sir._

12:18 am: **Pardon my incredulity, but I find difficulty believing that a public figure would message an unknown number with the opening statement of, 'Well, aren't you a sexy darling'.**

12:18 am: _Touché. I suppose you'll have to take my word for it then, just as how I have to believe that you're telling the truth about your number being secret and you being a celebrity._

12:19 am: **I see that we've come to a stalemate. Very well, let us both assume that the other is a well-known public figure.**

12:20 am: _Wonderful! I was hoping that you would be reasonable, and I'm glad you didn't disappoint._

12:20 am: **The immaturity of your texts makes it clear that I would be the more reasonable one no matter what.**

12:21 am: _I'll have you know that I'm very mature._

12:21 am: **I'm so sure.**

12:22 am: _So sarcastic. You know, you remind me of someone._

12:22 am: **What a scintillating revelation. Care to elaborate?**

This time, it was Harry who hesitated. In truth, the recipient of his texts reminded him of _Tom_ , but he was uncertain if he should say anything further on the subject.

12:24 am: _I have an… acquaintance that I know intimately._

12:24 am: **Intimately in the sexual sense, or in that you know them very well?**

12:25 am: _Obviously meaning that I know them well. Like you, I don't engage in romantic relationships, let alone sexual ones._

12:26 am: **Ah, yes. Preserving one's virginity in reminiscence of celibate monasterical practices is always an engaging pastime.**

12:26 am: _Fuck off. You said you hadn't been in a relationship either._

12:27 am: **I suppose we're both closeted monks then.**

12:27 am: _A rather odd way of putting it, but yes._

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

Harry was on his phone as he waited for the cameramen to finish the lighting. As he flipped to his texts, he recalled last night's… interesting conversation. Whoever he'd texted was obviously a fairly amusing person, and he found himself looking forward to talking to them again.

The photographer was taking forever to set up, and Harry sorely wished that the mystery person would message him again and save him from his boredom. Right after he thought this, his phone pinged as if on cue.

1:39 pm: **Good afternoon, Supposed Virgin Celebrity.**

Harry scowled at his phone.

1:39 pm: _Right back at you, O Wise Closeted Monk._

1:40 pm: **'O Wise Closeted Monk'? Whatever happened to 'Sexy Darling'?**

1:40 pm: _If you're going to call me 'Supposed Virgin Celebrity', there's no way I'm calling you 'Sexy Darling'._

1:40 pm: **To be fair, I would call by your given name if you actually _told me what it was._**

1:41 pm: _….point taken_

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

Harry was on the ride back from the gym when he pulled out his phone and began to type out of sheer boredom.

9:12 pm: _What's your favorite color?_

He had to wait for several minutes before the person replied— in fact, he was already back in his hotel suite by then.

9:25 pm: **Excuse me?**

9:25 pm: _I said, what's your favorite color?_

9:26 pm: **I can read, you buffoon. I was simply incredulous that you would ask about my favorite color so abruptly.**

9:26 pm: _Thanks for answering! My favorite color is green._

9:26 pm: **No need to be sarcastic. If you must know, mine is indigo.**

9:27 pm: _There. That wasn't so hard was it? Now it's your turn to ask a question._

9:27 pm: **What is this, an interrogation?**

9:27 pm: _Is that one of your questions?_

9:28 pm: **Obviously not. Fine, let me think… oh, I know. What's your name?**

9:29 pm: _Not answering that. Ask something else._

9:29 pm: **Why won't you answer? You have no reason to be so secretive; you were the one who initiated these conversations, after all.**

9:30 pm: _Well, too bad. I'm not answering. Also, who uses semicolons when they text? You're such a snob._

9:30 pm: **Pardon me for wishing to be at least somewhat coherent.**

9:31 pm: _No, you just sound like an insufferable prat. And, you haven't asked your question yet._

9:31 pm: **If I must ask a question in this silly game… hm. What's your most mortifying childhood memory?**

9:33 pm: _…you don't play around when you ask questions, do you?_

9:33 pm: **Obviously not. Besides, you were the one who forced me to take part in this ridiculous game.**

9:33 pm: _Hnnnngh_

9:34 pm: **How mature. Are you going to answer the question or not?**

9:34 pm: _aslkdfj sldkjf_

9:34 pm: **I'm still waiting.**

9:35 pm: _Urghhh_

9:35 pm: **And I'm still waiting**

9:36 pm: _Give me a moment, will you. I have a lot of childhoods to sort through to find THE most embarrassing memory._

9:36 pm: **How does one have 'childhoods', plural?**

Harry jerked awake at that. Mentally slapping himself, he groaned as he realized that he'd accidentally let it slip that he did have multiple childhoods. Ah, well. If this was just another mortal, they wouldn't jump to any far-fetched conclusions.

9:38 pm: _Oh, haha, I referring to how I have a lot of childhood **memories** to sort through. My bad._

9:39 pm **How interesting. Do you have an answer yet?**

9:40 pm: _Sheesh, hold your horses. I guess I have an ish-satisfactory answer?_

9:40 pm: **All right, let’s hear it.**

Harry glared at the phone screen. The other person was being so pushy, and out of spite, Harry impetuously decided to write the most ludicrous but true childhood memory he could think of from his previous lives.

9:41 pm: _You suck. Ok, here we go. When I was nine, my boyfriend and I unleashed an avalanche as we tried to capture a cockatrice._

He grinned triumphantly, knowing that this would properly shock whoever the other person was. The best thing was, they would be furious and think he was lying when he was actually telling the truth. In fact, he and Tom _had_ accidentally blown up half a mountainside to capture Bob the Cockatrice in their twentieth life.

Honestly, the mystery person was so similar to Tom at times. When he was with Tom, he'd always take great delight whenever he was able to make his incessantly snarky soulmate speechless. Similarly, he was currently very smug that the person on the other end had been stunned into temporary silence. For, Just as Harry had predicted, there was no response for several minutes. He smirked and leaned back, glad to have shocked the snarky responder.

9:50 pm **: I doubt your sanity.**

9:50 pm _: Really? You spend nine minutes thinking, and that's the best response you could come up with?_

9:50 pm **: For your information, I have a large arsenal of witty comments. I merely wanted to spare you the humiliation of suffering a verbal evisceration at my hands.**

9:51 pm: _Uh-uh, whatever you say._

9:51 pm: **Still disbelieving? Would you like to meet me in person and see for yourself?**

9:52 pm: _Is this your way of trying to figure out who I am again?_

9:52 pm: **Somewhat, yes. However, if you do agree, you'll also discover my identity as well.**

Harry considered the proposition. He would be lying if he said that he wasn't curious about the other person. In fact, he very much wanted to see who was behind the phone number. Sure, Serena would probably kill Harry for meeting with an unknown person, but that would be a plus since she deserved it for making him play formalities with Louis Valois's representative.

10:00 pm: _All right, I agree. How about you meet me at Beulatiuerr's for dinner tomorrow at 6:00 pm? It's not too far from my UK hotel suite, and I'll reserve a private room too._

10:00 pm: **It's a little far for me, but I'll be able to make it.**

10:01 pm: _Wonderful. See you then._

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

Harry was waiting at the front entrance of Beulatiuerr's. Since the restaurant was well-known for celebrity sightings and usually had paparazzi lurking around, he'd been forced to don his sunglasses and cap while he waited.

It became apparent, though, that all his discretion was for naught.

At exactly 6:00, there was a loud commotion outside. Curious, Harry walked towards the doorway to investigate, and he was promptly met with the sight of a Rolls Royce limousine flanked by several SUVs with darkened windows. A few bodyguards exited the SUVs to part the gathered crowd of excited paparazzi, and a manservant made his way to open the passenger door of the Rolls Royce.

Harry watched, mesmerized, as an incredibly handsome man stepped out. Dressed in an impeccably tailored suit that complimented his tall figure, the man was a vision to die for. Harry, who was a supermodel himself, found himself nevertheless jealous of the man's chiseled facial features.

As the man drew closer, Harry's jaw dropped as he realized that this person was none other than Sacha Chatillon, the second successor to the Moët Hennessy Louis Valois international conglomerate.

Harry continued to gaze in surprise at the man, who had now ducked inside Beulatiuerr's. Oddly enough, the man was looking about him as if in search for someone or something. An odd thought struck Harry— surely _Sacha Chatillon_ wasn't the mystery texter…?

Being lost in thought, Harry hadn't noticed the alluring feeling of _rightfulness_ drawing him towards Chatillon's side. It was only after he'd unconsciously taken a few steps towards Chatillon when he realized that something was off.

Before he could react, however, Chatillon closed the distance between them in a few strides and suddenly pulled Harry into a passionate kiss.

Chatillon's lips were firm and unyielding, and Harry found himself easing into Chatillon's fierce embrace. He returned the kiss with equal fervor, their bodies moving in a synchrony that spoke of close intimacy and completion. For, as Harry dimly realized past his haze of pleasure, _Chatillon was none other than his elusive soulmate._

The paparrazi was going wild, but Harry couldn't bring himself to care. He had found Tom again, and he allowed himself to enjoy the moment. The sensual manner with which Tom's lips moved against Harry's was all too delightful, and Harry had to suppress the whimper that threatened to escape.

After what could have been seconds or an eternity, Tom pulled away and brought a gentle hand to lovingly caress Harry's cheek. Harry leaned into the touch, smiling softly as Tom leaned forward to whisper by Harry's ear.

"We reunite at last, Harry." Tom murmured in that low voice of his.

Harry was unable to suppress a smile. "You knew it was me ever since the text about the mortifying childhood memory, didn't you?"

"Of course." Tom said with a smoothly raised brow. "I'm fairly certain that no one else has ever had to fight off cockatrices as a child."

"But why didn't you tell me it was you? Awfully unfair that you didn't say anything after finding out." Harry poked him hard.

"Because that would have ruined the fun, beloved." Tom answered with veiled amusement at Harry's faked irritation.

"You're such a twat." Harry said fondly.

"And don't you forget it." Tom said with a wicked smirk.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

"Valentin Blair, you are in so much trouble!" Serena said furiously, slapping down a newspaper on his desk.

Harry stared at her in confusion. "Wha—"

"Look!" She said angrily, jabbing a finger at the cover.

Harry blinked and did as she commanded, and his jaw dropped as he read the headline of the newspaper, which happened to be published by The Daily Mail.

**SHOCKING: SUPERMODEL VALENTIN BLAIR AND LOUIS VALOIS SECOND HEIR SACHA CHATILLON CAUGHT TOGETHER**

And below it was a copy of the day's The Sun newspaper, which read:

**SACHA CHATILLON GAY? A HISTORY OF HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH THE INTERNATIONAL SUPERMODEL VALENTIN BLAIR**

"Well? What do you have to say for yourself?" Serena said irritably. "Never mind the fact that you've been in a relationship without telling me— you also just _had_ to be careless enough for the two _biggest_ newspapers in Britain to find out, didn't you? I'm your manager and publicist, and I'm supposed to be the one that handles the media. I'd very much appreciate it if you didn't go about making my job more difficult than it already is."

Harry offered her a sheepish smile. "To my defense, Sacha was the one who initiated the kiss? It wasn't my idea to be so… open about it. Besides, this is all technically your fault. That number you gave me to call— did you know that was Sacha's?"

Serena's jaw dropped. "But that was the number that requested you for the London Fashion Week shows. Surely it would have been a secretary or some other lower-ranking personnel that had called."

"Nope." Harry said cheerfully. "It was Sacha himself. He said that his secretary was sick that day, and since he was bored and had extra time, he decided to call people in her stead. And oh, speak of the devil— he's calling me right now."

Harry's lips twisted into teasing smirk as he picked up the call. Serena, who knew Harry's whims well by now, had a sinking feeling that she would have her work cut out for her now that Sacha had entered the picture.

Was the pay worth it? Probably not. She sighed heavily and wondered if it would be too late to switch professions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe who caught the tiny references to His Deathly Beautiful Winter? 
> 
> Y'all seriously should check out [moonlight-modoki](http://moonlight-modoki.tumblr.com/) on tumblr! She's got fantastically wholesome + gorgeous art, and she's my personal light! Her ig is moko.soel, in case you were wondering! Also, bonus points if you message her 'mrrow' on tumblr or ig
> 
> If you'd like, feel free to leave kudos/comments! Your support is what encourages me to write, and I love you all so much!! Thanks for reading, and have a wonderful day <3


	14. Startling Snape and Finding Dragons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Recap of the previous main chapter** :
> 
> Harry complained to Death about his boredom, and Death's reply (accidentally) inspired Harry to start dropping hints to his friends about the Philosopher's Stone. Why? Harry planned on having a Harry Potter & Co. versus Quirrel showdown at the end of the year. His hints weren't very subtle either; he quite literally shoved them into Fluffy's room on the third corridor, and he got Hagrid to mention Flamel in front of his friends too. Also, Harry gave Dumbledore a frosty telling-off for being so blasé about cases of child neglect and abuse. Cue the 'oh my god Harry Potter is just like Tom Riddle' revelation from the headmaster. Harry, of course, had lots of fun recapping the conversation for Tom during one of their mindlink conversations.

Harry was very, very irked. He'd planned upon spending the winter holidays with Tom, but last minute, he'd remembered that he was supposed to 'stumble' across the Mirror of Erised after receiving the Cloak of Invisibility from Dumbledore. Technically, Harry already possessed the real Cloak, and the one in Dumbledore's hands was a fake, but that was a different matter.

Anyways, Harry still had to find the Mirror and delude Dumbledore into thinking that his plans were working. He didn't want the old man panicking about his inability to control Harry yet. A desperate Dumbledore was a dangerous Dumbledore.

When Christmas finally rolled by, Harry irritably donned his newly-received fake Cloak and trudged through the castle, making a few 'accidental' wrong turns here and there so that it wouldn't seem as though he already knew where the Mirror was. Eventually, he walked inside the Mirror's abandoned classroom, and he shut the door with excess force in his annoyance.

Knowing that Dumbledore was hiding somewhere in the classroom, disillusioned, Harry immediately resumed his Tom Riddle Act. He was very tempted to say something along the lines of, _'Gosh, Dumbledore and Grindelwald are goals'_ just to see how Dumbledore would react, but he knew that his snark wouldn't be appreciated very much.

Standing before the Mirror of Erised, Harry considered his options. He could say, a) ' _why is Dumbledore dead in the Mirror's reflection?,_ or b) _'oh my, Voldemort's snakeface looks positively_ dashing _and I can't believe he's kissing me,_ or c) _why is the mirror showing an image of the world bowing at my feet,_ or d) _'aw, it's mom and dad'._

The first three options would probably cause the Headmaster to drop dead from instantaneous cardiac arrest. And Harry couldn't have the old man dying before he could enact full revenge, couldn't he?

So instead, Harry pretend to be entranced by the Mirror. He allowed his cold Riddle expression to slip into one of awe as he took one step after another towards the Mirror, eventually stopping just inches from the reflective glass.

"M-mother? Father?" He breathed, leaning closer.

Harry could practically hear Dumbledore sigh with relief from the back of the classroom. Having taken care of _that_ worry, Harry was now free to leave, which he gladly did.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

Now that Christmas was over, there was only a week left until it was time for term to start again. Harry was still resentful that he didn't get to see Tom, so he vowed to make the most of the remaining winter holidays while at Hogwarts.

Hence, Harry _naturally_ had to do so by torturing his fellow Hogwarts residents.

He started by pranking the poor students. Some of the house-elves had put up sprigs of mistloe, and while the elves' backs were turned, Harry spelled the sprigs so that students would have to sing a song to free themselves from the mistloe, instead of the boring kiss-me route.

Consequently, the halls were filled with the sound of off-tune singing for the next couple of days. Filtwick eventually removed the spell from the mistloe, but only after complimenting Harry on the spell's stellar casting.

Harry had also set up multiple booby traps around the school. When triggered, the traps would douse unsuspecting students with eggnog and pepper them with whipped cream. _Technically_ , he was doing the school a favor. He was heightening their state of constant vigilance, after all. Hadn't he been an Auror in his third life? It was practically his civic duty to work for the public good and teach them street smarts.

Once this got boring too, Harry moved onto the professors . He spent hours on end talking to one teacher a time, usually roping them in for what seemed like a reasonable topic at the beginning, before gradually shifting the focus of the conversation to more peculiar subjects. For instance, he'd started out talking with McGonagall about the oddities of transfiguring objects to animals, but by dinnertime, they were avidly debating the merits of fire-breathing cats.

After a couple days, Harry had talked with all the teachers except for Snape. He couldn’t deny Snape the opportunity, of course, so he ended up strolling over the Potions master's office later on that afternoon.

"Good evening, Professor Snape!" Harry said cheerily.

Snape stared at Harry, evidently not having expected to see Potter's scion when he opened his door.

"…Potter."

"May I come in, sir?" Asked Harry, grinning widely. When Snape remained didn't respond, Harry let himself in and smartly closed the door after himself.

"So, sir, I was wondering if you could help me out with something."

"And what makes you think I'd be willing to assist?" Snape sneered.

"Because you're a mellow-tempered, kind, effervescent, doting good fellow." Harry rattled off with a straight face.

Snape's face soured. "Potter—"

"Nah, just kidding." Harry waved his hand dismissively. "We both know you're actually a cranky, old dungeons bat. And before you murder me for saying that, do you want to know the real reason why I came here? Since it certainly wasn't for potions help or anything."

Snape definitely looked like he still wanted to murder Harry, but with great visible effort, he seemed to restrain himself. "Then speak, and cease wasting my time." He snapped.

"Woah, woah, big boy." Harry said, raising his hands pacifyingly. "If you must know, I came for a visit because I wanted to thank you for apologizing."

"Excuse me?" Snape said irritably.

"Really, now. Do asphodel and wormwood not ring a bell?" Harry tilted his head to the side, looking up at Snape innocently.

Snape stilled before slowly turning away. "…I don't know what you're talking about."

"Mmm, sure you don't." Harry said nonchalantly. "Were you going to pretend like you didn't know about the prophecy too?"

Snape froze. "What?"

Harry stepped in front of Snape, forcing the potions master to look him in the eye. "I know many things, professor." Harry said, his gaze startlingly intense.

Snape was evidently shaken. "Your arrogance is deplorable." He sneered, trying to regain his previous composure.

Harry wasn't fooled by Snape's false indifference, though. "Severus, darling, why must you insist upon playing the role of the villain?" Harry shook his head in mock disappointment. "You may put on that grumpy-pants act to throw others off, but it won't work on me."

"Potter—"

"Kind of hard to be afraid of a man who swore a Vow to protect me, actually." Harry shrugged, casually examining his fingernails.

Snape blanched. "How did you know—"

Harry sighed and dropped all pretense. "Severus, I'm… different. Look, I'm not here to antagonize you. I just wanted to let you know that I don't hate you, and that I'm grateful for your loyalty." He said seriously and truthfully.

"Potter, what's the meaning of this?" Snape asked, but his voice wasn't hostile. It was more resigned, if anything.

Harry shrugged. "That's for you to determine. Oh, and one last thing— think before you report everything to Dumbledore, will you? Is he _really_ a man you trust?"

Without waiting for Snape to answer, Harry left the room, knowing that Snape wouldn't mention this conversation to Dumbledore. Snape never truly had supported or trusted the old man, anyways.

Who knows? Perhaps Severus could be a good ally this time around.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

The winter holidays were now over. Harry was glad to have his friends back at the castle, and the feeling was mutual, however much his friends pretended otherwise. There was a positive babel as they all at once started excitedly telling Harry about their holidays.

"—and Father took us to Paris for New Year's, and he bought another villa, which he promised to give to me when I'm older—"

"Hey, there's something important I need to tell you—"

"—Mother's getting remarried again, even after she'd gone and 'disappeared' all her previous husbands—"

"No, seriously, I need to tell you something—"

"—Gran said she would get me a Venomous Tentacula if I got good marks—"

"Guys, this is _really important—_ "

"—and I went to one of the boutiques that my family owns—"

" _WOULD YOU ALL SHUT UP?"_

They were startled into silence, surprised by Daphne's outburst. She'd been trying to get their attention for the past minute or so, but no one noticed.

Daphne glared at them all, exasperated. "Right. Thanks for finally quieting down. So, do you remember our conversation with Hagrid before the hols?"

"We all do, Daphne. Get on with it, will you?" Draco said impatiently.

"I was going to." Daphne said icily. "Well, Harry sent me Chocolate Frogs for Christmas, and on one of the Famous Wizards cards, I found Flamel."

"Say what now?" Blaise scrunched up his nose, confused.

Daphne rolled her eyes. She pulled out the aforementioned Famous Wizards card and began to read. "Listen to this: 'Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel'."

Harry grinned inwardly. Daphne had done splendidly, just as he'd intended when he got her those Chocolate Frogs.

Hermione, meanwhile, seemed to be having an epiphany. She jumped to her feet, and she hadn't looked so excited since they'd gotten back the marks for their very first piece of homework. "Stay there!" Hermione said, and she sprinted up the stairs to the girls' dormitories.

Harry and his friends barely had time to exchange mystified looks before she was dashing back, an enormous old book in her arms.

"I never thought to look in here!" Hermione whispered excitedly. "I got this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading."

"Light?" said Blaise, but Hermione told him to be quiet until she'd looked something up, and started flicking frantically through the pages, muttering to herself.

At last she found what she was looking for. "I knew it! I knew it!" Hermione exclaimed triumphantly.

"Are we allowed to speak yet?" said Draco grumpily. Hermione ignored him.

"Nicolas Flamel," she whispered dramatically, "is the only known maker of the Sorcerer's Stone!"

This didn't have quite the effect she'd expected.

"The what?" said Neville and Pansy.

"Oh, honestly, don't you two read? Look at this paragraph." Hermione huffed, pointing towards the page.

When they finished reading, they stared at each other agape, processing the implications of Flamel and the Stone.

"So that's what was in the grubby little package." Daphne mused. "I suppose the dog must be guarding Flamel's Sorcerer's Stone."

"I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, and that's why the Stone was moved out of Gringotts!" Blaise said, nodding.

"A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!" said Pansy. "No wonder Snape's after it! Anyone would want it."

Draco frowned at her. "See here, we still don't know if Snape wants to steal it."

Pansy waved him off. "Oh, tosh. It's simply more interesting if we pretend that a teacher's after it. Now wouldn't _that_ be a fascinating turn of events!"

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

A couple weeks later of speculation and theorizing, they decided to throw subtlety to the winds and just ask Hagrid about the Stone outright.

"Hello Hagrid!" Harry said cheerfully. "Nice weather we're having here. Also, what's protecting the Stone at Hogwarts?"

Hagrid choked on his tea, spewing them all in a green-tea-scented spray. "Yeh already found out 'bout the Stone? I mean, erm, what's the Stone?"

Daphne fixed Hagrid with an unimpressed look. "Hagrid, we know that Fluffy's guarding Flamel's Stone. However, we were wondering if you could tell us what's guarding the Sorcerer's Stone apart from Fluffy."

Hagrid shuffled his feet back and forth. "I can't really say since I don' know the answer to that meself, so I wouldn' tell yeh if I could."

Neville gave Hagrid his best smile. "Hagrid, we thought you might be able to help us, since Dumbledore trusts you a lot and we figured you'd know about the protections."

"Well…"

"Please, Hagrid? We're merely curious, that's all." Neville said innocently.

Hagrid smiled, mollified. "Well, I suppose it wouldn' hurt to tell yeh who's guarding the Stone. Far as I know, all the teachers have their own protections in place, an' Dumbledore did his thing too."

Draco gave Neville a congratulatory look for having gotten that out of Hagrid. Any momentary glee, though, was quickly extinguished when he caught sight of something in the corner of the hut.

"Hagrid, what's that?" Draco said suddenly, pointing at the looming fire that Hagrid had attempted to block with his hulking figure.

"Er, it's me fire, that's what." Hagrid said, suddenly sounding shifty.

"No it's not." Draco insisted, a note of alarm entering his voice. "There's something in the fire, and I've seen enough photos of dragon eggs that I know exactly what that is. I'm literally named after a dragon, Hagrid."

And indeed, in the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, was a huge, black egg.

"Ah," said Hagrid, fiddling nervously with his beard, "Maybe it is, er..."

"Where did you get it, Hagrid?" said Blaise, crouching over the fire to get a closer look at the egg. "It must've cost you a fortune."

"Won it," said Hagrid. "Las' night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."

"But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?" said Daphne in disbelief.

"Keep it, o' course!" He looked very pleased with himself, but Hermione didn't.

 "Hagrid, you live in a wooden house," she said. The rest of Harry's friends also looked worried about what might happen to Hagrid if anyone found out he was hiding an illegal dragon in his hut.

Harry, on the other hand, was delighted. His mind was whirling with possibilities, and he mentally envisioned dragon-roasted Quirrel crisp.

"Ohhhh, this is going to be so fun." He cackled wickedly.

 

 

Meanwhile back in Riddle Manor, Tom felt a shiver run down his back. He had a sneaking suspicion that his soulmate was about to do something spectacularly stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry, Harry, Harry. Let's hope Tom can talk you out of whatever you're planning to do with the dragon.
> 
> Feel free to leave kudos/comments if you'd like! Thanks for reading, and have a wonderful day <3
> 
> Check my Tumblr for updates on when I'll be posting the next chapter! Find me @tired-luxis


	15. --Life #3--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Recap of the previous life #3** :  
> This is a continuation of the last mini-chapter on their third life (chapter 11). For those who'd like a memory refresher- this is the first life where Harry and Tom have sort-of acknowledged the fact that they're soulmates. In the previous chapter about this life, Harry went about complimenting Voldemort and acting all amicable, since he thought Voldemort's stunned and annoyed reactions to his cheerful greetings were _hilarious_. But then, like all fools, Harry belatedly realized that he actually _meant_ all those compliments. Worse, he accidentally slipped up and called Voldemort a "bloody Adonis" completely unironically. How the turns have tabled ;))
> 
>  **PLEASE READ EDIT 3/31** : I've changed this chapter significantly. **I added a scene and took out a different scene + a couple of paragraphs.** So, I've changed the update date from 3/30 to 3/31 in hopes that people who've already read it before will now read the edited version.

**Life #31 Case files:**

**Who:**

Tom is Lucien Avery

Harry is Jasper Davis

**What:**

Tom is the Minister of Magic

Harry is the Head Auror

**When:**

Tom is born in 1892

Harry is born in 1900

**Where:**

Magical Britain

~~~~~______~~~~~_____~~~~~

 

_"Well, not all of us can be a bloody Eros and look good in everything." Harry muttered under his breath._

_The moment the words were out of his mouth, he froze. Had he just said….?_

 

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

Harry sat in his office, head bowed in absolute bafflement. This entire time, he'd been complimenting Voldemort on small, inane things such as his speechmaking abilities, and it all served to wonderfully confuse the ex-Dark Lord.

But just now, Harry had inadvertently complimented Voldemort as a _person_. That was the equivalent of declaring his attraction to the man, and as Harry realized with dawning horror, there was no way that Voldemort hadn't noticed his slip-up.

How would Voldemort react? Would he ignore it? Or would he tease Harry in retaliation?

Harry was going to die of embarrassment either way, and he wondered if it would be easier to just disappear into a dark hole right there, right then.

This called for a liberal dosage of Firewhiskey.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

Harry awoke the next morning with a desperation-induced resolve to pretend that nothing had happened. After a night of mental cajoling and persuading himself, he came to the following conclusion:

He most certainly did _not_ fancy Voldemort, and what he'd said yesterday was a misunderstanding.

Voldemort was merely Harry's superior at work, that was all. Harry had simply been a bit… _confused_.

_I do not fancy Voldemort. I do not fancy Voldemort. I do not fancy Voldemort. I do not fancy Voldemort. I do not fancy Voldemort. I do not fancy Voldemort._

Harry strode into the Auror department with his usual confident aura and stubborn determination. He maintained the façade for the rest of the day, remaining as outwardly assured as ever even when his Assistant Head Auror, Charles Nithe, came to talk to him about their upcoming briefing with the Minister You-Know-Poo.

During the meeting, Harry valiantly struggled to maintain a neutral expression as he listened to Voldemort —no, Minister Lucien Avery— speak. Harry was so tense and frazzled the entire time that he couldn't recall what the meeting was about when it was over.

"And, oh— Head Auror Davis, if you could stay after." Voldemort's voice called out as Harry made to leave.

Harry stiffened and glanced at Charles, his eyes wide and pleading. _Don't let me stay alone with the man!_ Harry silently begged his friend. Charles only shook his head with an amused smile and left the room, effectively throwing Harry to the metaphorical wolves.

Dreading the unavoidable, Harry turned slowly to face Voldemort. His face probably showed his trepidation.

"Good afternoon, Avery." Harry said with a halfhearted attempt at casualness.

Voldemort raised a single, perfectly poised brow. "I thought you were the one advocating for first-name basis interactions."

"Well, things have changed." Harry muttered his breath.

Voldemort gave him an fake look of innocent bemusement. "Surely you could at least call me by my first name. We've been coworkers for almost two years by now, _Jasper._ "

Harry glared at the man. Voldemort had just quoted what Harry had said a while ago, and it was _so very like_ the petty ex-Dark Lord to throw Harry's own words back at him.

"What, can't talk?" Voldemort drawled when Harry didn't answer. "Perhaps it's my stunning physical attributes that struck you speechless. I bear an uncanny resemblance to ' _bloody Eros_ ' himself, so I've been told."

Harry groaned and slouched even further. "Is this payback?" He ventured weakly. "Because if it is, I take back everything I said earlier."

Voldemort only gave him a look of saintlike innocence (now, wasn't _that_ an interesting picture).

"Why, Jasper, I haven't the faintest idea why you'd perhaps believe that. I thought we were rather cordial coworkers. Or was I wrong?"

Harry only sighed and stared morosely down at his feet. Damn his smart mouth. He really had brought this upon himself, hadn't he?

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

Harry was alone in the dimly lit closet off to the side of the Auror offices. He searched the filing cabinets inside, cursing the Ministry's abysmal sorting system. He was reaching for a file when he heard the audible _click_ of the closet door closing behind him.

"Who—" Harry began before faltering when he saw that it was Voldemort. "Ah. How can I help you, Aver—I mean, Lucien?"

Voldemort only continued to prowl silently towards Harry. His gaze was filled with a smoldering intensity that left Harry temporarily breathless.

"L-Lucien?" Harry said shakily, backing away until his back hit the wall. "What are you doing?"

Voldemort didn't answer, instead choosing to pause before Harry's frozen form. Harry bit his lip anxiously and didn't miss the way Voldemort's eyes darkened with _desire_ at the sight.

"What's up with you?" Harry said nervously. "Are you—"

He was abruptly startled into silence as Voldemort-Lucien leaned down and _kissed_ Harry. The man's lips were forceful and possessing, and Harry couldn't resist the desire to reciprocate, and reciprocate he did. Harry surprised even himself with his own eagerness.

Voldemort pulled Harry flush against his body, their chests touching and the heat almost too much for him. Harry's hands moved of their own volition as he pressed his palm to Voldemort's well-toned torso, and traced patterns down the man's side.

Voldemort growled appreciatively and kissed Harry harder, causing Harry to involuntarily let out a small moan of pleasure. Taking advantage of Harry's parted mouth, Voldemort bit down on Harry's bottom lip, eliciting a delightful mewl from Harry. With that, Voldemort proceeded to plunder Harry with sinful abandon, his tongue probing Harry's.

At this point, Harry's hands had snaked their way up Voldemort's back, and he could feel Voldemort muscles ripple under Harry's curious touch. It was a long while later when Voldemort finally broke the kiss, only to press his lips against the shadow of Harry's jaw moments later. The fluttering sensation of Voldemort's alternatingly rough and gentle kisses were enough to make Harry pant with barely stifled sounds of pleasure.

Voldemort worked his way downwards, leaving a trail of dark, wine-colored marks on Harry's smooth skin, and Harry's breath hitched as Voldemort drew near his waistband. Voldemort's sensual ministrations caused Harry's pupils to dilate, his chest heaving with the sheer intensity of their passion.

Expletives fell from Harry's kiss-bitten lips. He groaned, bucking his hips upwards, begging for _more,_ for Voldemort cease the torture and _do something_.

Harry was spun around with such an abrupt force that he had to hold onto the filing cabinets to stabilize himself. Taking advantage of Harry's bent-over position, Voldemort grasped Harry from behind in one smooth, fluid motion.

Harry was suddenly hyper aware of his surroundings. He froze, unable to process that there was something hard pressing over his arse. Even more mind-boggling was the fact that Voldemort was unashamedly and viciously grinding his delightfully muscled hips against Harry's arse, and Harry moaned at the thought of Voldemort being as aroused as he was.

They moved in rhythm, falling into place like two lovers of the ages. Harry's eyes flew wide open, his expression frozen in sheer ecstasy, his kiss-bitten lips a beautiful, plush pink as he gasped, _please, don't stop, oh god, more,_ his body pushing back against Voldemort's thrusts shamelessly, fully aware that in this moment, he was lost to the throes of lust and something else, something _more_ , something that was terrifyingly like _trust_ and _intimacy_ and _union_ , and he knew he shouldn't feel like that, he shouldn't let himself give in, but his inhibitions were slipping away as Voldemort moved  _oh so beautifully_ , and then Harry felt Voldemort snap his hips forward once, twice, and suddenly—

 

Harry jolted awake.

 

He sat in bed, his breath coming in labored pants as he tried to calm himself and take stock of the situation. With a sickening, swooping sensation, Harry realized with burning humiliation that he was damp and sticky all over. He numbly vanished the mess wandlessly, but his thoughts were elsewhere and he still felt tainted.

Harry got up and stumbled to the restroom, his gait unsteady and wobbly. His muscles were weak from the exertion of the dream, and he tried to not think of what he would feel like had the dream been real.

He splashed himself with cold water, hoping to cleanse himself of such thoughts. It was to no avail, though. Harry stared into the mirror, seeing his reflection with full clarity. His wild-eyed gaze was clouded with confusion, lingering lust, and panic. His hair was mussed and looked thoroughly sexed, which really didn't help matters.

If anything, Harry looked just as debauched as he felt. And wasn't that a wonderful revelation.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

"Death, am I gay?"

The immortal being, having been summoned by Harry on short notice, almost tumbled out of the air at those words.

" _Excuse me_?" Death wheezed once he'd regained his composure.

"I mean, I don't think I'm gay?" Harry hastily amended. 

"Then why're you asking this question?"

Harry fidgeted a little. "Well, uhm, I may have experienced something that could make me kinda gay. Just a little gay, though."

If Death had had a face, it'd be slack-jawed in surprise.

"Do tell. What's this experience you refer to?"

"Er, you see, just the other day, I ah... I hadawetdreamaboutLordVoldemort."

At this, Death nearly fell into another astral plane in shock again.

" _What?_ " Death choked out, staring incredulously at his Master.

"It's not a big deal, I swear," Harry insisted. "But is it... is it gay to have a weird dream about a guy?"

"Harry, I'm the god of Death. Don't you have someone better to vent about your sexual awakening to?" Death sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No, not really. _You're_ the one who told me and Voldemort that we're... we're s-soulmates," Harry bit out defensively, flushing a little at the last bit.

"What, are you still in denial about that?"

"Denial? Who, me?" Harry exclaimed with false bravado. "What's denial?"

Death looked like he was about to cry from frustration. "You two _are_ soulmates, so own up to it. Also, leave me out of your sexual crises from now on, please."

Without further ado, he teleported to another dimension, leaving Harry to his confused thoughts.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

Harry was jumpy at work the next day. He couldn't meet Voldemort's eyes, and his cheeks would flush whenever Voldemort even entered the room. Charles, that perceptive wanker, noticed Harry's unease and shot him knowing looks all afternoon, but that was at least something Harry could deal with.

What Harry _couldn't_ deal with, though, were the curious looks of puzzlement that Voldemort gave him throughout their Auror-Minister meetings. There was a brief moment when Harry thought the man would confront him, but Harry was mercifully called away by a coworker before anything could happen.

Harry had just finished his final work shift when he decided that he'd had enough. His jumpy behavior had to stop, and stop _soon._

Without thinking, he strode up to the nearest female and blurted out an invite for her to spend dinner with him at The Gloster, which was a nice restaurant down in Hogsmeade.

The woman, who was "Mary Sue" according to her nametag, blushed furiously and said yes. Harry belatedly concluded that this perhaps hadn't been the best idea, but if a date with a woman could help him get back on track… well, he might not have to deal with certain _dreams_ ever again.

Because Harry was definitely straight. He may have been little confused lately, and that's all there was to it.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

On second thought, maybe Harry wasn't completely straight.

Following a disastrous date with Mary Susan, or whatever her name was, Harry was forced to admit that the impromptu dinner was a horrible idea. The entire time, his thoughts were elsewhere.

To make matters worse, Voldemort himself showed up. They were midway through the second course when the man idly strolled inside with some diplomat or another, flanked by his usual entourage of bodyguards that consisted of Charles and a few other Aurors.

Of course, there had been a small kerfuffle as some of the other diners realized the Minister was present, but it died down just as quickly. The Gloster staff guided Voldemort and the diplomat to a table that was, most unfortunately, directly in front of Harry's. Charles gave a quick wave at Harry, who weakly smiled in return.

For the rest of the meal, Harry only grew more restless as Marrissa Sue continued to natter on about some affair or another, and he caught himself staring at Voldemort more than once. Each time, however, Harry hastily caught himself before Voldemort could notice. He couldn't help flushing in embarrassment, though, whenever this happened.

Perhaps he wasn't all that straight? No matter. Voldemort was a more pressing issue, and Harry still had no clue how to deal with the man.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

Harry was sitting with his head in hands when Charles barged into his office.

"Tell me what's been going on. Now," Charles said bluntly without hesitation.

Harry mumbled something unintelligible about everything going fine, but Charles didn't buy it.

"Jasper, you and I know very well that something's up. If you aren't going to say anything, how about I tell you what I've observed?" Charles said, unimpressed. When Harry remained silent, Charles sighed and continued. "Right. Well, how do you explain those dark circles under your eyes nowadays? Or, how your eyes follow Minister Lucien whenever he enters a room?"

Harry jerked up, his mouth dropping open. "I— I don't do that!"

"Uh-huh. And I'm Merlin himself," Charles said sarcastically. "Look, if it makes you feel better, I've noticed that Lucien's been doing the same to you."

Harry looked at Charles, startled. "Er— he has?" Harry said before thinking. He instantly cursed himself. Harry stubbornly told himself that it was curiosity _,_ not some other impulse that had driven him to say that. It definitely wasn't a feeling of _interest_ , heaven forbid.

Charles only smiled with amusement. "He's been looking at you too, really. For instance, remember when you asked Mary Sue on a date? He was in the room talking to me when it happened, and I saw him stiffen slightly in response. And Lucien's dinner with the diplomat that just _happened_ to occur at the same time as your date? It was actually a deliberate move. We were supposed to be dining at Avia's, but Lucien changed the location last minute to Gloster's. The entire time, you were sneaking glances at the man, but he was doing it too. I'd never seen him so snippy nor distracted."

Harry's eyebrows rose higher and higher with every word. He valiantly attempted to quash the flare of hope prompted by Charles's information and forcefully reminded himself that this was  _Voldemort_ they were talking about, not some lovestruck coworker. And did he even want Voldemort to like him? Fine, maybe yes, but that was beside the point.

"I dunno, Charles." Harry muttered. "He could be doing it just to annoy me. He probably just didn't like seeing that I have a date, or that I'm doing something other than boring work."

Charles snorted in disbelief. "Right. You're hopeless, really. Actually, you both are. I'll return to minding my own business, and it'll be a miracle if there's ever a development in the relationship between you two."

"Wha— Charles! There is no relationship!" Harry called out after Charles's retreating back.

He only heard a scoff in reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry, you literally had a wet dream about Voldemort. Snap out of your denial and love the man already, please and thanks xoxo
> 
> (if you'd like, please do leave kudos/comments! this chapter took an unholy amount of time to write, so I hope you liked it :') also your support is what fuels my ~~dead~~ tired existence ahaha i love you all so much)


	16. Stoned Sorcerers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Recap of the previous main chapter** : ( _PLEASE READ THIS_ since the last main chapter was posted uhh *checks timestamps* on the 16th of February)  
>  Dumbledore gifts Harry the placebo/fake Invisibility Cloak for Christmas thinking it was real (Harry has the actual Cloak), and Harry pretends to see his parents in the Mirror of Erised to assuage Dumbledore's growing worries. Harry also takes time over the holiday break to nag at his professors, particularly Snape, before deciding that Snape might be a useful ally and subsequently planting a seed of doubt in Snape's mind regarding Dumbledore's trustworthiness. Daphne and Hermione work out the discovery of Flamel's Sorcerer's/Philosopher's Stone. Lastly, Harry and his Squad™ find the dragon egg in Hagrid's hut.

"What are we going to do about Hagrid and the dragon?" Hermione stressed.

They'd just come back from watching the dragon hatch, and they could tell that the dragon was a little terror even as a newborn. Neville was still nursing a burnt finger from having been too close to the smoldering eggshell, and Daphne was fuming because the dragon bit the sleeve of her robes.

"We ought to exterminate it, that's what," Daphne muttered darkly, still trying to mend her singed hem.

"Daphne!" Hermione cried, aghast.

"Cool it, I was only kidding," Daphne rolled her eyes. "How about we do something sensible and tell an adult about it? They're probably more equipped to deal with this than a bunch of first years."

"But then Hagrid's going to get in trouble," Hermione bit her lip worriedly.

"So? He should of thought twice before sheltering an illegal, class XXXXX creature in his flimsy hut," She said irritably.

"She's right, you know," Neville said to Hermione. Upon seeing Hermione's wounded expression, Neville hastily scrambled to clarify himself. "Not about this being Hagrid's fault! I mean, it kind of is, but hang on! Let me explain! I think we really should tell an adult. Kettleburn's the Care of Magical Creatures professor, right? He'll know what to do."

"He might report Hagrid to Dumbledore, or worse, the Ministry," Hermione said stubbornly.

"Hey, I have a solution," Harry interrupted. "How about we let it loose in the Forbidden Forest?"

"Are you mad?!" Six voices shouted in unison as they spun around to look at him.

"I was kidding! But hey, I think we should send Nobert over to Britain's Dragonlife Reserve. If we shrunk the dragon, we transport it with little danger," Harry insisted. He was still disappointed that Tom refused to let him sic the dragon on Quirrel, but he'd have to make do.

"If we _shrunk_ the dragon?" Draco echoed in disbelief.

"I know a creature-shrinking spell that works. I've tried it before too," Harry said truthfully, thinking of when Tom shrunk a cockatrice for him in their twentieth life.

"What," Pansy deadpanned.

"Swear to Merlin, it works," Harry said seriously. "If you don't believe me, I can do it on the dragon and show it to you."

A couple weeks later when Nobert grew too big for Hagrid's cabin, Harry tested out his spell. It worked, much to the shock of his friends. They did end up transferring Very-Tiny-Mini-Nobert to the Reserve, and the Reserve's representative who came to pick up the dragon had taken one look at Weirdly-Miniscule-Nobert and wisely pretended that nothing was amiss. Clearly, the man had seen his share of weird happenings.

And as for Harry's mysterious shrinking spell? Wisely, his friends also decided to not ask Harry where he'd learned such a skill.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

They were lounging around in the library when Blaise hurtled in, hair windswept and completely out of breath.

"Sweet Salazar! You'll never believe what I just found out," He wheezed, still trying to catch his breath.

Across the library, Madam Pince glared at Blaise's loud voice, and he shot a sheepish smile.

"Judging from your state of disarray, I'd say that it must be a life-changing revelation."

Blaise elbowed him. "Shut it, Drakey, or I'll hex your mouth shut for you."

"I _told_ you to not call me that!" Draco hissed, flushing in embarrassment.

"If you hadn't been such a Drakey—"

"Shhhhhhhhh!" Madam Pince shushed them angrily.

Draco gave her a pinched, apologetic look before rounding on Blaise again. "I said, I told you to not me that," Draco whisper-yelled more quietly this time.

"Too bad, _Drakey._ Now zip it and listen to what I have to say, because it's about the Stone, you git." Blaise shot back.

At the mention of the Stone, Draco finally fell quiet.

"Finally," Blaise muttered under his breath. "Anyways, I was chasing after my owl—"

"Your _owl_?" Hermione interrupted.

"Yes, my twit of an owl, Marty. It's quite a beastly thing," Blaise explained impatiently.

"You named your owl _Marty_?" Neville said incredulously.

"You named your toad 'Trevor', Longbottom," Blaise answered irritably. "Now, are we done discussing Marty's annoying birdarse? Because the important thing is that I overheard Quirrel and Snape talking about the Stone when I was running after Marty."

Daphne gave him a dubious look. "You were chasing your owl named Marty, and you just happened to stumble across two professors talking about the Stone in broad daylight in the castle?"

"Actually, stupid Marty chased a mouse into the Forbidden Forest, and that's where I came across Snape and Quirrel. So technically, the professors weren't in the castle," Blaise clarified, as though that made any more sense.

"…all right. Say that I suspend my disbelief for the moment being. What did you hear them saying?"

"Here's the thing— I heard Snape threatening Quirrel!" Blaise said excitedly, qualms about Marty forgotten. "He was telling Quirrel about how Quirrel wouldn't want Snape as an enemy, and he asked about the Stone specifically and Hagrid's dog. I didn't get to hear all of it, but towards the end, I overheard him saying something about Quirrel's 'bit of hocus-pocus'."

Pansy gasped dramatically. "Snape's after the Stone!"

"That's what I thought too," Blaise said emphatically. "Snape wants to know what Quirrel did to protect the Stone, and that means he wants to know how to get past it!"

Draco frowned. "I could just ask Godfather about what he's up to. And I highly doubt that he's here to steal the Stone."

"You're right. Snape isn't the type to do that," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Though, I don't think it's a good idea for you to confront your godfather directly, Draco. We can't have the teachers finding out that we know about the Stone too."

"Fair point," nodded Harry. "Let's keep it to ourselves for now, and we'll be on the watch for any suspicious moves on Snape and Quirrel's parts."

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

Though Harry was perfectly fine with leading his friends on a quest for the Stone, he didn't quite want to risk losing the Stone to Quirrel for real. So, he decided to retrieve the Stone sometime soon, and when Saturday came around, he did exactly that.

Harry woke up early and crept out of the Ravenclaw dorms with his invisibility cloak. He cast his usual slew of notice-me-nots, disillusionment spells, anti-detection charms, noise cancellation spells, and pulled his invisibility cloak on for good measure.

In no time, Harry was outside the door on the third floor corridor. He slipped inside the room and proceeded to dismantle the obstacles, which were the same as before. Harry cleared the challenges easily, the chess game taking the longest.

Finally, Harry was at Dumbledore's obstacle. He had to use his magic to quietly disrupt the wards encasing the Mirror, breaking the threads of magic with extreme caution.

When the wards finally fell, Harry gazed into the Mirror and almost rolled his eyes at what he saw.

There, in the Mirror, Harry was standing by Tom, and they both looked amused by something. Harry mentally groaned at the mirror's projection; Tom's ego would soar if he found out that he was Harry's greatest desire. Technically, Harry's greatest desire was to have fun, be entertained, and to be with Tom, but Tom played a major part nevertheless.

Oh, well. Harry decided that he'd just avoid the topic and hopefully he wouldn't have to tell Tom. Salazar— Tom would be absolutely insufferable if word ever got out.

Harry returned his attention to the mirror and set about reconfiguring his greatest desire. After a couple minutes' worth of occlumency, mental manipulation, and self-control, Harry did it. He convinced the mirror that he had wouldn't use the Stone for personal gain, and besides, why would he do so to begin with? He was already immortal and had no need for additional gold.

In the end, the mirror decided to gift Harry the Stone, and Harry quickly stowed the stone in his heavily warded, protected, and concealed pouch. He retrieved a replacement stone from his personal storage in a different astral plane, one that had been created courtesy of Death. The Fake-Pretty-Stone was made by Death himself, and had a near-identical magical presence to the actual Stone. It took only a little coaxing from Harry to have the mirror absorbed the false Stone.

He was about to leave when a sudden thought struck him. In a matter of mere minutes, Harry finished casting a web of the strongest detection, alarm, and magical signature recognition wards and spells around the mirror and the room. This way if someone, namely Quirrel, did manage to find the mirror, Harry would be immediately alerted of the intrusion and the intruder's magical signature.

He seriously considered added a whole slew of ridiculous spells that would douse Quirrel in confetti and sticky, sweet icing, but the thought of Tom's unamused face deterred him.

To make his spells undetectable from Dumbledore and others, Harry did some tricky masking magic that hadn't been officially invented in this time yet, as he had learned the masking magic in one of his other lives.

Harry did a quick, final scan of the room before phasing out of the castle and into the Riddle Manor. He placed the heavily protected pouch containing the real Stone inside his and Tom's chambers and left a short, sweet note atop it.

_Tom,_

_Thought you might need this. You've been looking wrinkly lately, so you'd better get started on the Elixir of Eternal Life._

Of course, Tom looked stupidly handsome all the time, but he'd fly into a snit anyways.

When finished, Harry apparated back into Hogwarts and snuck into the Ravenclaw dorms. There was no one around, and Harry removed the concealment spells on himself and put away his invisibility cloak.

He relaxed and flopped back onto his bed. Not too bad for a morning's work.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

'Tom! Guess what? I retrieved the Stone and sent it over to the Riddle Manor. Aren't you proud of me?' Harry chirped into their mindlink.

'… what’ll Dumbledore do when he finds out?'

'Who says he needs to find out? I _love_ messing with him,' Harry said cheerfully.

'Right. I forget sometimes that you’re an utter lunatic.'

'That's fair,' Harry grinned. 'But you can't blame me for wanting to have a little fun every now and then.'

Tom scoffed. 'I've had to endure Wizengamot meetings this entire time without brutally disemboweling anyone. If I can control my sadistic urges, so can you.'

'Do you know which urges you can't control?' Harry waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

'The urge to maim your sorry existence?' Tom offered.

'Careful, Tom, your Lord Voldemort is showing,' Harry clucked his tongue.

'I am Lord Voldemort.’

'And I'm Lord Diabolus, but I've been on model behavior for a Dark Lord. Well, most of the time, that is.'

'You've almost completely abandoned your Lord Diabolus duties,' Tom pointed out irritably.

'Trying to convince me to resume my work as Lord Diabolus, are you?' Harry shook a finger reprovingly. 'Tut, tut. As much as I savor the terror of your minions in my presence, I have little interest in Apparating over to Riddle Manor every day.'

'Not even to keep up your appearance as my fellow Dark Lord?' Tom objected.

'I'm a couple thousand years old, darling. I don't care about appearances or what your precious Death Eaters think.' Harry rolled his eyes. 'Besides, I've been showing up once or twice a week, which should be good enough.'

'You've come back fewer times than before recently,' Tom almost pouted.

'Missing me already, Tom? Poor Lord Voldemort, having to no one else to Crucio Death Eaters with.'

'It's only their fear of me that keeps them from questioning your long absence,' Tom informed Harry with annoyance.

'However shall I thank you?' Harry fluttered his eyelashes.

'You'll figure it out.'

'Probably, but not now. I'm off to eat dinner,' Harry replied, checking the time.

'Even is dinner more important than your soulmate?' Tom sighed exasperatedly.

'Sorry, darling, but I'm afraid that you can't compete with my love affair with treacle tart.' Harry laughed as he closed their mindlink, Tom looking adorably affronted as he did so. Who know Dark Lords could be so pouty?

Honestly, his soulmate was just too precious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Look at my trainwreck self crawling out of hiatus to post this!! Woohoo!!!! But seriously, though, thanks for being so kind and understanding— you readers truly mean the world to me ❤️
> 
> (kudos/comments feed my soul! haha just kidding I dont have one, no souls we die like men)


	17. --Life #20--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **RECAP OF THE PREVIOUS LIFE #20 CHAPTER** :  
> This chapter is a continuation of the previous --Life #20-- chapter. So! A recap of what happened last time on Life #20: Harry Potter is Heir Caelus Selwyn, a Ravenclaw, and is childhood friends with Heir Austrinus Malfoy (Tom), a Slytherin. Tom captured a cockatrice and gifted him to Harry, who promptly named the cockatrice "Bob". Harry is a prodigy at ward magic, and Tom is the Hogwarts heartbreaker. Meanwhile, they do naughty-naughty things in private.
> 
> I'd like to pause and thank my funniest, sweetest friend maquira. You probably know her as the author of Kudosed, Bookmarked, Subscribed, or as the author of Chained. She's legitimately one of the most talented, skilled writers out there, and I look up to her a lot as my (twin) bigsis! We did Writing Trades together, and those greatly helped my productivity. She also beta'd the hell out of this chapter! I highly recommend that you check out her fics, because she's beyond amazing.
> 
> So! This chapter is dedicated to maquira, the hilarious/talented four-seasons tree that I'm honored to call my twinsis friend. I'd trust her with my life at this point woopsjdklf

**Life #20 Case file:**

**Who:**

Tom is Austrinus Malfoy

Harry is Caelus Selwyn

**What:**

Tom is the Malfoy Heir (Slytherin)

Harry is the Selwyn Heir (Ravenclaw)

**When:**

Tom is born in 1863

Harry is born in 1864

**Where:**

Magical Great Britain

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

Harry, now a fifth year, was sitting alone in the Ravenclaw commons. It was five in the morning, which was fairly late even by late-nighter Ravenclaw standards. 

He’d been reading a fascinating treatise on the Anglo-Saxan ancient warding systems, and he'd lost track of time quite spectacularly. Midway through the last chapter of the treatise, Harry felt something tap his shoulder.

"Staying up rather late, aren't you?" came a low voice behind him.

Harry whirled around, startled, only to come face-to-face with his handsome lover.

"What are you doing here?" Harry demanded once he'd gotten over his surprise.

"I merely wanted to visit you, Beloved," Tom replied in a smooth, silken tone.

"At five in the morning?" 

"Perhaps," Tom demurred, raising an eyebrow. "If you must know, it was your horrid cockatrice that called me here."

The aforementioned cockatrice looked guiltily at Harry. _'Sorry, Speaker. I was growing bored.'_

Harry sighed. _'Bob, for the last time, you can't go around the castle without my permission.'_

 _'But you seemed tired. And I know that Speaker likes his mate, so I thought I'd help,'_ Bob said petulantly.

 _'Er, he's not really my mate,'_ Harry lied to avoid the cockatrice's penetrating gaze.

_'Really? Wasn't Speaker mating with him just yesterday? I heard Speaker making sounds all ni—'_

Harry clapped a hand over Bob's mouth, his cheeks and the tips of his ears blushing a bright red. _'You can't go around saying things like that!'_

So far, no one at Hogwarts knew that Harry and Tom were… _involved_ , and hearing Bob flaunt his knowledge of their intimacy was a bit jarring. Tom chuckled at Harry's embarrassment and he slid a hand around Harry's waist from behind, deliberately confirming Bob's suspicions to Harry's chagrin.

 _'Why, Harry, your cockatrice is quite intelligent. Who would have known that of all persons, it would be he who first discovers our relationship?'_ Tom said amusedly.

 _'Ha_ ,' hissed Bob smugly. _'I'm around you two the most, and you two aren't the most discreet at mating and—'_

Harry chucked Bob out the window before he could finish.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

Being openly gay simply wasn't a thing in the late 1800s. But Harry and Tom, who didn’t care about such societal constraints, were more than willing to come out anyways. They only decided to continue keeping their relationship quiet to see how long it would take for someone to realize their true sexuality.

Harry called it the 'Gay-Games'. Or, put simply: when will someone finally realize him and Tom are gay as hell?

Until recently, Harry and Tom had kept their makeout sessions to a minimum, only chancing it when they were certain that they were in a secluded space. Now, though, they were growing more and more daring. They started kissing brazenly in hallways late at night, which was pretty out in the open. And _still_ , no one seemed to have caught on.

Harry suspected that he'd develop a full-blown exhibitionist kink before one of his Hogwarts fellows finally found out.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

They started resorting to more drastic measures. Though Tom was a sixth-year Prefect, he'd never thought of bringing Harry to the Prefect's bathroom. It was actually Harry, recently appointed prefect by Ravenclaw’s Head of House, who brought it up.

They made sure to enter and leave the baths at the same time and drop loud hints about doing so. Harry was pretty sure that a few of the more observant Slytherins had picked up on this pattern, but they brushed it off as "Caelus and Austrinus's incredibly close friendship."

To quote a lovable phrase that Harry had picked up in one of his more modern rebirths, he and Tom were "two bros chillin in a hot tub, five feet apart 'cause they’re not gay.”

The funniest thing was that Harry and Tom were two of the most desired males in the school, but everyone still thought they were straight. Consequently, they were regularly accosted by fawning females.

Harry was known as that mysterious, intelligent, quiet, aloof individual that the most ardent of ladies sought to tame. Tom, conversely, was that socially prominent figure with suave mannerisms and a dashing presence. It also helped that they were both from incredibly wealthy families, and were every gold digger’s wet dream.

One day when Harry was in the library, a particularly determined admirer of his —Liliana Black— practically latched onto him while he was minding his own business and studying for a Runes exam.

"Oh, Caelus, you look awfully tired. Can I help you with anything?" She askedc 

Hadrian remained seated as he gave her a cool look. "Good afternoon, Miss…?" Though Harry knew her name, he enjoyed seeing her flush in embarrassment at the subtle rejection.

"It's Lady Black, but you call me Liliana. I'm in your Potions class," she clarified with a wink.

"How may I help you, Lady Black?" Harry inquired politely, refusing to address her by her first name.

"I was hoping that you could look over my potions essay," Liliana said in a breathy voice that suggested she wanted Harry to look over something _else_ entirely.

"I see," Harry said after a pause, keeping his voice carefully neutral. "If you would leave your essay by that table, I'll read it when I have time."

"That wasn't what I meant," Liliana said quickly before Harry could return to his book, her hands flying upwards as if to stop him. "Is it alright if we read it together?"

Harry suppressed a sigh and gave her what hopefully looked to be a natural smile. "I suppose."

Liliana looked at him expectantly, clearly waiting for him to move over so that she could sit next to him. When Harry only stared blankly back at her with a deliberately puzzled expression, she started to fidget.

"I'm sorry, did you need something else?" Harry asked blandly.

"Could you scoot over a little so that we can read the essay together?" said Liliana impatiently.

"Oh." Harry blinked, pretending as though this was news to him. "I thought you were going to pull up a chair next to mine."

Seeing that Harry still wasn't going to move, Liliana gave up and conjured a chair. Harry proceeded to ignore her as he continued to study his Runes textbook. After about ten minutes of this, she finally spoke up.

"Can we get started on the essay now?" she said, a hint of annoyance seeping into her previously seductive voice.

"My apologies, I was studying for the Runes exam," Harry replied with a mildly passive-aggressive smile.

"Right. But I'm busy, so can we start now?" Liliana insisted.

Harry barely stopped himself from pointing out that it was she who had come to him for help and interrupted his study session, not the other way around.

"If you must, then let us begin," He sighed, drawing delight from the way her face crumpled slightly at his unenthusiastic manner.

She handed him the essay, which was surprisingly well-written. Harry wouldn't have minded reading her paper too much, if not for how she kept edging closer and closer the entire time. She was practically sitting by his lap by the time he was done.

And while Harry was trying to give her feedback,Liliana kept posing rather suggestively. She uncrossed her legs and stretched them to show a bit more skin, her robes falling away to reveal bits of thigh that he planned to _Obliviate_ from his mind afterwards. And she leaned forward whenever Harry spoke, her chest pushing out with the confidence that could only come of being born into privilege. Not that Harry had anything against confident girls— he himself had been quite the saucy lady in his seventh life. 

No, it was because he'd been giving her hints to sod off but she still hadn't done so. He was forced to politely look away whenever she began to make eyes at him again.

All in all, it was a bother to him, and he found himself wishing that someone would hurry up and realize that he and Tom were gay for each other. The Gay Games charades were becoming tiresome.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

Tom dragged Harry down a quiet corridor just a few turns away from the Great Hall. It was only seven at night, meaning that almost everyone was still awake and could possibly come across them. Although Harry didn't want to admit it, he did find the prospect rather thrilling.

"A-Austrinus, what are you—"

Tom interrupted Harry's stammering as he pushed him up against the wall, his eyes of molten silver shining with a fierce light.

"Austrinus—"

Tom claimed Harry's lips, effectively silencing him. Harry eyes flew wide open in shock before he soon melted under the sensual ministrations of Tom's mouth upon his. 

A couple hours earlier, he had told Harry that he’d “stake his claim” in public, encouraging Harry should play along as a blushing virgin in case anyone did see them. Tom said it was for the sake of the Gay Games, and Harry was only too happy to comply.

So, Harry was tempted to lose himself in the feel of Tom as he usually would, but he remembered last second that he had a role to play. He gasped when they broke away, pretending to be flustered and shy.

"Anyone could see—"

"So let them see," Tom rumbled, his voice low. Even if he hadn’t said anything, his heated, darkened eyes held the same wordless command.

_Mine._

Tom cradled the small of Harry's back, holding him with a tenderness that contrasted with what Harry knew to be part of their roleplay but was nevertheless genuine.

"Tom, what—" Harry gasped between kisses.

"I heard something about you and a certain Liliana Black?" Tom stepped back finally, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"What?" Harry blinked dazedly, his brain still somewhat addled by lust.

"Don't play coy, _darling_ ," Tom growled fiercely, pulling Harry into another kiss.

"I—"

"Say my name," Tom commanded, trailing his fingertips lower.

"Wha—"

"My _name_ , Harry," he repeated imperiously.

"T-Tom?"

"Mmm," Tom murmured, his low voice sending shivers down Harry's back. "Say that you're mine."

"I'm yours, Tom," Harry said, his breath coming in small pants as Tom's hands dipped tantalizingly lower.

"Mine," Tom affirmed, pressing his soft lips to the v-line of Harry's pelvis.

"Y-yours," Harry gasped.

When Harry's pleading devolved into helpless whines, Tom pulled himself up again. He leaned in close and pressed slow, deep kisses against the shadow of Harry's jaw. Harry's breath hitched and he inadvertently tilted his head to the side, allowing Tom better access.

Tom bit down on his lower lip without warning, and Harry moaned at the harsh sensation. But Tom assuaged him with gentle kisses as he trailed his mouth down further, eventually reaching Harry's collarbone.

"Mmm, Caelus, you're so beautiful," Tom murmured against Harry's neck, and Harry shivered helplessly at the praise.

The vibrations of Tom's voice along Harry's skin sent a pleasant shiver through his body. He reached up to card his hands through Tom's long, pale strands of silken blonde hair and massaged his fingertips over Tom's scalp, drawing another sound of contentment from him.

They continued with these displays of affection for a solid ten minutes, but still no one found out. Harry was beginning to wonder if Death was screwing around or something, since it probably was statistically impossible for all Hogwarts inhabitants to somehow be completely unaware even now.

Ah, well. Harry didn't mind the kissing, so he supposed he could wait a little longer for the dunderheads to get with it.

~~~~~______~~~~~______~~~~~

"Hey Caelus, I didn't see you last night," said one of Harry's Ravenclaw dormmates, Jackson.

Harry feigned indifference and offered a polite smile. "Oh, are you certain? I was out at the library and came back admittedly later than usual."

"Weird. I almost pulled an all-nighter, but I didn't see you come back," Jackson commented, surprised.

"I suppose I must have missed you when I came in," Harry replied smoothly.

Jackson frowned suspiciously, trying to find fault in his explanation before eventually giving up. Harry, who had been hoping that someone would finally pick up on his suspiciously-timed disappearances, was very disappointed that his Ravenclaw peer hadn't made the connection. It looked like the Gay Games were back on.

"Say, I didn't see Austrinus come to our inter-House study group last night either," Another Ravenclaw piped up.

"Odd, isn't it?" Harry said demurely. "I did see Austrinus at the library yesterday too, so that might be why."

"Oh. I've just never known Austrinus to skip studying," the Ravenclaw ventured.

"He probably decided that he had better ways to prepare for his exams," Harry shrugged.

Harry could hear Death snort over their mental connection. _'Prepare for exams?' Is that what the youngsters are calling it now?'_

Harry mentally ribbed Death to be silent, and he offered his friends a genial smile before waving goodbye. In a fit of daring, he winked — _winked!_ — at Tom, and judging from a hastily stifled gasp behind him, at least one person had caught it.

 _Finally._ Some progress.

He strode back to the dorms, feeling satisfied. The Gay Games would be culminating anytime now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew it's been a while! and hehe it's a steamy scene- did you like it?
> 
> kudos/comments are always welcome 💗


End file.
